Collide (The Solomon Experiments Book 1) Read online

  So much for that.

  Unable to eat another bite and unwilling to talk, I excuse myself and go to my room, anxious to end the day and wake from the nightmare that’s become my life. I stumble to the bathroom and remove my clothes, washing them in the sink before climbing into the shower. The soap taunts me, reminding me of my little experiment in David’s bathroom. No way am I trying that again. In fact, I’m not sure I want to mess with any of my so-called abilities, gifts mom called them, now. If she was afraid of them enough to change my memories, maybe I should be as well.

  The warm water washes away each thought. Within moments I’m myself again. Mom’s voice is no longer in my head. I am not obsessing over her words. I finish the shower, relishing in the momentary reprieve.

  Exhaustion permeates my skin as I dress in sweats and a t-shirt and comb through my wet strands. I climb into bed, clicking the TV on. I’m not ready to face the dark now. Not after this week.

  Knock-knock. The sound jars me from my semi-conscious state.

  “Dakota, let me in.” There is an unnerving insistence in David’s voice.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask as I open the door. I can’t handle another crisis. Not tonight.

  “We need to talk. About us.”

  Are you kidding me? Now? “What us?” I turn back to the bed, the door open.

  David walks in and closes the door. His scent fills the room, and I react even though I don’t want to. “I need you,” he whispers. “I’ve always needed you.”

  “You had me. And then you left.” I don’t have the energy to get into this with him. Not now.

  “I wanted to protect you.”

  Something in his words unleashes a cold fury. “I wish people would just stop protecting me. You, Josh, Mom. There’s no way any of you can protect me from . . . me!”

  David’s eyes soften. “This isn’t your fault,” his voice is low and full of caring.

  “You heard my mom. We were trained as assassins. Assassins, David. Just like in my visions and dreams.”

  David furrows his brow. “You aren’t a killer.”

  “Why, because you say so? Because Mom and Josh say I’m not? Sorry if that doesn’t mean anything to me anymore.” I exhale a tight breath and David steps closer, his hands covering mine.

  I pull away from him. “Stop.”

  David doesn’t listen. He grabs my waist and pulls me to him. His lips brush against mine and a fresh wave of chills tickle my skin.

  “What are you doing?” I say as I push my hands against his chest, ignoring the feel of his muscles as they ripple under his t-shirt and the way my stomach clenches with his touch.

  “Distracting you.” His lips are on mine again before I can protest.

  I don’t pull back this time. Our bodies meld into each other. His greedy mouth nibbles mine. I need the strength his kisses offer, the promises.

  The hope.

  “You’re safe with me, Dakota.” His voice is ragged, his breath hot against my ear. Each word is followed by a string of kisses along my jaw, my neck. “Trust me.”

  “I can’t,” I say, my voice breathless.

  “You can.” His mouth meets mine again and I melt into his arms. Memories of our childhood—the secret promises we made and the innocent love we professed—surround me and I face a simple truth:

  I do trust him.

  More than I should.

  THE ARCHITECT SAT ON HER PORCH, COUNTING THE STARS. She didn’t bother cleaning up her staged house. What was the point? She wouldn’t be back. Not anytime soon, at least. The wind whipped around her, adding to the agitation she couldn’t escape. Everything was going according to plan, she had the others off balance. She would reenter their lives in the morning and convince them to go with her. Easy.

  Then why was she so anxious?

  She closed her eyes to quiet her thoughts. Several heartbeats passed before she was able to focus her mind. Her vision blackened as a singular idea consumed her thoughts. Josh. She pictured him sitting with her on the porch, the same concern she’d seen hours earlier still etched in his features. She asked him to find her. Rescue her, was more accurate, not that she was willing to admit her feelings to anyone else.

  In her daydream, Josh took her hand in his. The warmth of his touch chased away the monsters created by her doubts. He, alone, calmed her. Made her whole. The Architect sucked in a tight breath as the fantasy continued to fill her mind.

  She never noticed the other presence in her mind, never sensed the accusations and shifting priorities.

  Where are the others? Why are they not yet here?

  The unwelcome voice pulled her from her dreams instantly, leaving her with a knot in her stomach like she’d been thrown off a cliff, in an endless freefall she couldn’t predict. She sucked in the fantasy, Josh, everything, leaving only the deep loneliness she’d grown accustomed to over the past ten years.

  Do I need to be worried. His words carried no question, only a threat.

  The Architect choked down the response poised on her lips. “No, sir,” she said aloud. “I serve the Order, as always.”

  Hmm. I wonder.

  The thought filled her with dread. The Creator had threatened her before, but this felt different somehow. His doubt released a shaky breath from her. “I will get the others tomorrow and bring them to you as promised.”

  As ordered. His words brought home the truth louder than anything else he would say. The Creator was in charge of her. He would always be in charge.

  Silence filled the gulf in her thoughts as the Creator left her mind and appeared in front of her. His eyes appeared cold in the vision, lifeless. His six-foot, five-inch figure towered over her. He pinned her with his cold stare, sizing her up like some newly discovered threat.

  Your mission has changed. The Ninja is a threat.

  The Architect’s heart clenched at the mention of him.

  What is your job, soldier?

  Her mouth refused to form the words. The Creator had made her mission clear long ago. It was her entire purpose. Now that the order was given, she wasn’t at all certain she could do what was required.

  Soldier? You’re with us or you’re against us.

  The Architect grabbed her head as the Creator continued to pin her with his glare. Her thoughts emptied as images of her father’s death replaced every fantasy of Josh.

  The Ninja is a threat. He betrays the Order. He betrays you.

  She stared at the corpse filling her thoughts. Blood drained from his ears and nose. Tears welled in her eyes. She couldn’t let his death pass, not after everything he had done for her, all of the sacrifices.

  Her heart clenched again.

  Eliminate all—

  “Threats.” The finality in the Architect’s voice startled even her. She sealed off her mind, her intensity matching the Creator’s.

  Good, he said. Good. Eliminate all threats.

  “I serve the Order.”

  Project Stargate 2.0

  The Solomon Experiments

  Dr. LeMercier’s Personal Journal –

  November 5, 2002

  Day 129:

  The girl, the one they call the Architect, knows. Somehow she manipulated Tate into telling her everything. He’ll pay for that one day, once his usefulness is complete. For now, I must focus on neutralizing the threat the girl represents.

  The girl came to me directly, telling me everything about her encounter with Tate and allowing me to confirm her story by invading her thoughts. She revealed herself to me completely, including her need for belonging, for my acceptance. Her willingness to do anything to ensure her position within the project. Perhaps there are uses for her beyond my original thoughts.

  I won’t kill her, not now. I can’t bring that kind of scrutiny to the project. But her loyalty, dependence, must be absolute.

  Her father—he is the key.

  It would pain me to lose him. He has been nothing but faithful to the cause. Despite everything he knows about my work, he�
�s never tipped his hand to the others, not even his daughter. He has my complete trust.

  She does not.

  I will do what I must to secure her silence, regardless of the cost. There is too much at stake now.

  The question is how to use him? His death? Her need for vengeance? These can be powerful tools, especially if his death is caused by our mutual enemy.

  I can’t be rash, now. I must wait, plan. The timing has to be perfect.

  One way or another, I will have her loyalty and trust. Or I will order her death. She will not bring an end to my triumph. I won’t allow it.

  DAVID’S ARMS WRAP ME IN A TIGHT EMBRACE, BLOCKING THE THOUGHTS OF ASSASSINS, PSYCHIC PHENOMENA AND MOM AND DAD. For now. The TV lights flicker around the room as some comedian talks about the day’s events. The steady rhythm of David’s breath tells me he’s fallen into a deep sleep. At least one of us can.

  I shift my body, untangling myself from his arms, and stand. My body groans as my exhaustion eclipses everything else. Everything hurts: my legs, my head, my heart. Too much has happened, too much lost.

  I tremble with weight of each loss and lean against the wall to prevent myself from falling. I slide down to the floor and wrap my arms around my knees, desperate to hold myself together. If that’s even possible anymore.

  Something tells me it isn’t.

  You’re stronger than this, I attempt to convince myself, borrowing my brother’s favorite phrase. He’d always told me I could handle anything. I wish he were right. My chest tightens. Mom’s words from the tape and the journal loop though my head. We were assassins, trained to use our gifts against the world.

  I think of the soap floating around David’s bathroom, recall the memories of objects bending to my will and the way I can think someone into doing whatever I want. Mom believed she’d removed my gifts, taught me to live without them. Clearly, some part of them remains.

  I glance around the room, noting the drab 90’s decor. No big loss if I manage to “accidentally” break something. I unfold my legs and shift positions. Releasing a tight breath, I clear my thoughts. The action is natural, automatic. I stare at the TV, imagining it floating. It shakes for only a moment before the panic returns and my chest tightens once more.

  Focus, I scream inside. I look back at the flatscreen. The Late Show is over, replaced by a replay of the evening news. I stare at the TV, willing it to hover a few inches over the dresser. It shifts, moves. The effort pounds through me. “What are you doing?” I whisper. “This is nuts.” The TV responds by falling back to the dresser with a thud.

  “Try that again.” David sits up, his eyes wide. “The TV, try it again.”

  I release another breath and roll my eyes back, picturing the TV floating high above the dresser, obeying every command.

  “Yes!” David’s excitement is infectious. “Keep going.”

  I open my eyes. The TV hovers over the dresser, tethered by several cords. I will the cords out of the wall. They comply and screen blackens as the TV floats higher. I imagine the screen flickering back to life. In moments the newscaster returns to the screen. “Tomorrow’s highs will be in the 70s as the unseasonably cool weather continues.”

  I laugh nervously, both intrigued and terrified.

  “Looks like you’ve still got some skills.”

  “I guess so,” I say as I lower the TV and replace the plugs into the socket. “Not that levitating will help me much in a fight.”

  “Are you kidding? I didn’t do much more than that when I got rid of those assassins.”

  “They didn’t float away, David. You hurt them, made them pass out, made them leave. How’d you do that, anyway?” I anticipate the answer before he speaks.

  “I told them they were sliced and their bodies just bled. Then I told them to leave. There really wasn’t anything more to it.”

  Just like I’d done with the shrinks and teachers. Except for the whole slicing part. “Handy trick.”

  “No kidding.”

  I stand and stretch. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

  “I’m not.” His voice sends fresh chills across my spine.

  “Stop it. I’m still mad at you.”

  “Your kisses didn’t feel mad.” His gaze scorches me.

  My face flushes and I will the TV to turn off, reluctant to let him know just how much he still affects me. “Regardless, we aren’t a couple. You shouldn’t be here.”

  “Whatever,” he taunts.

  I stumble to the edge of the bed as my eyes adjust to the darkness. “I do want to talk about something before I kick you out though.”

  David grabs my hands. “Sure,” he whispers. He traces small circles on my hand with his thumb.

  I pull away “Focus.”

  “I am focused.”

  My face heats again, along with my body. “David, I’m serious. It’s about the attack.”

  “Attack?” His thumb stops circling my hand and I imagine his face etched with worry.

  “Before, when I collapsed. I thought my head would explode from the pain.”

  “Are you sure that’s what happened?”

  I inhale a sharp breath, remembering in detail how much my brain hurt. “Oh yeah, I was definitely attacked. It was the same thing we learned how to do before, during the experiments.”

  “I don’t remember practicing attacks offensively. Only for defense.”

  “I do. We argued about whether or not I should be hurting others without provocation.”

  “And did you?”

  “Did I attack you guys?” I don’t want to admit what I remember. But the words pour out faster than I can stop them, and I tell David everything. “I attacked Maya. She thought it was Mari and threw a glass bottle at her.”

  “I remember. Mari had a mean scar on her face afterwards.”

  “Yeah.” My voice trails off as the memory of that fight, my refusal to tell Maya what I’d done, the shame I still feel, envelops me.

  “Dakota?” David’s voice pulls me back to the present. “You okay?”

  “Just remembering things I’d rather not,” I say as I shake my head. “Anyway, I sensed someone in my head at the house. And I think I know who.” I pause, unwilling to make my suspicions true by saying her name aloud.

  They all tell lies. They all tell lies. The memory of my dream with Mari encircles me and cuts off my words.

  “Who?” David’s eagerness is palpable.

  My minds fills with doubt. Immediately, I close off my thoughts.

  “Dakota?”

  “I shouldn’t have said anything,” I whisper.

  “Why not? You can trust me.”

  Can I? “Forget I said anything. For now.” I stand and go to the door. “Let’s get Josh. We should head over to the house and see if anyone’s come around.”

  “In the middle of the night? No. Stop stalling, Dakota. Tell me what you were thinking before, about your attacker.”

  I ignore his words, wishing I’d remained silent. I can’t deny my feelings for David, but that doesn’t mean I should trust him with everything just yet. “Come on.” I open the door to leave.

  David follows me next door.

  Knock-knock. Nothing. Josh has clearly fallen asleep.

  Knock-knock. Knock. Silence again.

  “Dang he’s a heavy sleeper,” David says. “With everything going on, you’d think he wouldn’t be able to sleep at all.

  That’s what bothers me. Josh never sleeps this soundly. I look to the parking lot, scanning for our car. Gone. “He’s not here,” I say. Panic tightens my chest immediately, as my pulse increases.

  I pound on the door again, hoping I’m wrong. Josh wouldn’t go back to the house by himself, would he?

  “Dakota.” David’s voice does nothing to calm me now. He takes my hand in his. “He’s already gone.”

  I shift my focus to David, noting the concern in his face. We’ll find him, he whispers through my thoughts. “I promise.”

  I want to trust him. I need his
comfort. But nothing can comfort me until Josh is found. “We’d better,” I say as I go back into my room and grab my stuff. “How are we going to get there? Josh has the car.” I yell over my shoulder.

  David isn’t behind me now. He’s walking toward the back of the parking lot.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Shh,” he says as he motions for me to hurry. “Come on.” He’s as concerned for Josh as I am.

  I catch up just as he tries car after car until he finds one that is unlocked.

  “No way!” I say, my jaw tight. “We aren’t going to start stealing cars. I’m pretty certain we weren’t trained to break the law whenever we want.” No, we were just trained to kill.

  “We aren’t stealing, we’re borrowing.” David slips into the driver’s seat and pulls several wires from under the steering wheel. Within moments, he’s hot-wired the car. “Are you coming or what?”

  Unable to release the tension now threatening to send me into full-scale panic mode, and unwilling to let David go without me, I have no choice but to jump into the car.

  And do something I don’t think I’ve ever done . . .

  Pray.

  WE SPEED THE FEW MILES BACK TO AURORA, DESPERATE TO FIND JOSH. Why did he leave without us? My body shudders as I imagine what I’d do if he was taken. Or worse.

  “What if they took him?” My stomach tosses and I gag. I reach for David’s hand, anything to steady the waves of emotions threatening to undo me.

  “Don’t worry. I know he’s at the house.”

  I nod, willing David’s words to be true. Closing my eyes, I reach out for Josh’s presence. I have no idea what I’m supposed to be doing, how to find him. Instinct takes over before I can think to ask David for help and I clear away everything but my thoughts of Josh. A heartbeat passes. New images paint across my thoughts, bombarding my senses with a full array of scents and sounds.