Adam looked over his equipment with dismay. It wasn't what he had that was wrong, it was lack of it. As in: manpower. Rope he had, and more tranquilizer darts. But how to get down to Shalimar to be able to trank her? Brennan was the best shot, and by all accounts Shalimar had dodged his one shot as if the dart was moving in slow motion. No, they needed Emma to keep Shalimar under control, and right now his only empath was lying all but comatose in her bed, worn out. What had possessed the girl to over-extend herself like that? Adam slammed the counter top in frustration. Emma's heart was in the right place but her head—the part that was needed—was getting soft.
More and more it looked like some sort of slow acting poison had been administered to the feral. Adam hadn't been able to find anything, but he hadn't been looking for poison. He'd been going on the assumption that it was a genetic malfunction. Emma had assumed that it was a psionic attacker. Both of them were likely wrong, but that wouldn't do any good now.
Manpower. That was the resource most needed. Manpower to research the poison in Shalimar's body, manpower to rescue Shalimar and Jesse from the cliff ledge—please, please let Jesse be there, and alive—and manpower, or empath power to keep Shalimar from killing her would-be saviors. Manpower: there wasn't enough to go around. He couldn't be in two places at once; working in his lab on an antidote, or going to the cliff to work with Brennan.
Priorities: all the antidote in the world wouldn't help if they couldn't trap Shalimar and bring her in. Decision made: Adam would go to the cliff.
He tapped on his comm. link. "Brennan," he called. "I'm on my way. How's Shalimar?" And Jesse, his heart wanted to cry.
Brennan heard the unspoken plea. "Jesse's alive, Adam," he said immediately. "I just heard from him. But he's in bad shape."
"How bad?" Adam began to mentally add a medical kit to his supplies.
"I'm not sure. I still can't see him. He thinks his leg is broken."
"We'll need a stretcher, then. And a splint." Major relief was the overwhelming emotion. It didn't matter how badly hurt the molecular was; he was alive!
"More rope," Brennan told Adam. "Jesse's stuck on another ledge. Shalimar's nearby," he added nervously. "Don't take too long."
"I won't." Adam cut the link. He turned away, only to turn back at a call coming in. He almost ignored it, but thought better of it. They needed manpower; Adam had plenty of contacts to call on, plenty of favors he could call in. If this was one of them…
"Yes?"
"Dr. Adam?"
The voice was deeper than it had been at twelve, and the hair much shaggier, but Yves-Jacques St. Legere still looked much the same. But the eyes now were haunted by grief, and Adam recalled what Emma had said when she'd lightly scanned him: that Y.J.'s father was dead. That Y.J. was now an orphan. Which meant that the authorities were likely sniffing around him, wanting to put him into a foster home of some kind. The worst sort of place for a teen-age empath.
Yet another drain on scarce resources. Adam wanted to help the boy, but now was not the time.
Okay, how to talk to the boy swiftly without making him feel unwanted? Adam was familiar with the kind of feelings a mutant teen-ager could have: he'd lived through several of them here in Sanctuary. Adam plunged ahead.
"Y.J.," he greeted him. "I just heard about your father. I'm sorry."
"Yeah. Me, too." Y.J. looked down at the floor on his end.
"Calling for help?" Cut to the chase.
"Yeah." Y.J. looked relieved at this evidence of telepathy in a normal human, not realizing that normals could also rely on intuition and common sense.
"You've got it," Adam said immediately, "but right now I've got a crisis. Give me a number where you can be reached, and I'll get to you. Can you hold out for twenty-four hours?" It shouldn't take longer than that to get Shalimar under control, he reasoned. Worst case scenario, they could capture the feral, put her under wraps, and then send Brennan and Emma out to pick up the boy. Y.J. didn't know either of them, but that shouldn't make a difference. Y.J. would empathically know that they were from Adam and could be trusted.
A little niggling thought tugged at Adam: what if this boy was the cause of Shalimar's condition? What if Y.J. himself couldn't be trusted? He quashed the thought firmly. If so, better to keep an eye on him. Emma had mostly ruled him out as a suspect, and if she was wrong then having the kid right here would bring the matter to a head.
Y.J. bit his lip. Did it look artful? Adam couldn't tell. "I…I'm not sure. The lady from Child Welfare is getting pretty close. She may try to take me this afternoon." He rushed on. "Dr. Adam, I'm not far away. I'm right in town. I can come to where ever you say and you can get me real quick. Maybe I can help with your crisis. My powers are getting stronger all the time."
Maybe he could, at that. Another thought occurred to Adam: assuming that Y.J. was on the level, another empath to help control Shalimar would only benefit the situation. There was no telling how strong an empath had to be in order to calm a feral down. Emma was powerful, but exhausted. Y.J. really could be a benefit. And, at fifteen, Y.J. didn't have his full adult growth but would still be strong enough to help with hauling whichever bodies needed hauling up a steep cliff with a lot of rope. Last benefit: helping Adam and Mutant X would be a perfect way to tell an orphaned kid that someone really needed him. Which, to be honest, they did.
Decision made: "I'll be there in a few moments. Plan to dump your stuff in my car, and we'll head directly out to where the others are. We'll regroup at Sanctuary later."
The relief on Y.J.'s face was obvious, and Adam felt guilty for ever doubting the kid. That kind of relief couldn't be faked. And Emma had cleared him, for the most part.
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"Talk to me, Jesse." Brennan was trying his best to hang over the edge of the cliff and not disturb any more of the loose dirt. A few pebbles gave way, but nothing more. "I can't see much. Talk to me. Tell me what's happening down there."
"My mouth is dry," Jesse mentioned, as much to say something rather than a real complaint. "My leg hurts. And Shalimar is looking hungry."
"Shalimar is always hungry. Comes from having a feral nature. She burns off calories like a bonfire in a feather pillow factory. She showing signs of settling down for a nap?"
"Nope." Jesse was sounding nervous. And tired. And wiped. "Think you've got enough rope to lower the trank gun down to me?"
Uh-oh. "She looking that bad?"
"Uh, I hate to put it this way, but: yes. And cover is in short supply on this ledge, even supposing I could move to it."
Brennan eyeballed the lightweight but sturdy nylon line that Jesse had stuffed into his pack when he hiked out here with the scanner and trank gun. "I can try, but I don't think there's enough. If you're going to fall off a cliff, Jess, you really ought to plan better and bring extra rope. Adding in a couple of shoelaces isn't going to do the trick."
"I'll remember next time. Uh, oh—Brennan, she's jumping over to this ledge. Shalimar, it's okay!" Jesse yelled. "Shalimar, stay where you are."
"Jesse, what's going on?" Brennan found it hard to keep from yelling himself.
"Brennan, I really think you need to toss that trank gun down now." Jesse's voice was calm, but Jesse was not. "Shalimar—ow! Shalimar, keep your hands off. That hurts!"
"Jesse?"
"Brennan, Shalimar's looking really weird. Not just mutant weird, I mean crazy weird—ow!" The comm. link cut off, but the shout could be heard straight up the cliff face.
"Jesse?"
No response on the comm. link, but an agonized groan could be heard below, long and drawn out, then disintegrating into a series of coughs. The sound of someone trying to regain their breath after not breathing. Not breathing because of the pain that had just been inflicted. Then there was another tortured yell, one that suddenly cut off in the middle.
"Jesse! Shalimar!" No answer. Just a lot of inhuman growling in a feminine register. "Jesse, try to move back." Still no response.
He had to do something. Brennan inched over the cliff face, trying for a better view.
Hah. That was it. He could just barely see Shalimar crouched over her teammate, poking and prodding at him, pushing and tweaking at what looked uncomfortably like blood covered bone parts sticking out of a pant leg. Jesse had gone limp—passed out? Brennan hoped so, because what Shalimar was doing had to hurt something fierce.
No choice. He had to chance it. Stretching out one long arm, Brennan fired up the electricity and aimed.
Missed! A chunk of cliff ledge tumbled down, victim of Brennan's lightning bolt.
But it had the desired effect: startled, Shalimar leaped back onto the far ledge and away from Jesse. Brennan remembered to breathe.
He watched the feral from his new vantage point. Far from being mollified, Shalimar was pacing back and forth on the narrow ledge, casting baleful looks toward both Jesse and up toward Brennan. Clearly she was waiting for the opportunity to go back to her prey. The cat had a new mouse toy to play with.
Brennan snapped his fingers. Plenty of juice left, but how long it would last would depend on how often he had to drive Shalimar back and keep her away from Jesse. He clicked on his comm. link.
"Adam, we have a problem."
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Y.J. had gotten taller, too. Adam remembered him as a kid barely as tall as Shalimar, but now he was nearly as tall as Adam himself and looking to be as broad in the shoulders. The genetic scans were correct: Yves-Jacques was turning into a large, economy size man with long wavy dark hair and molten brown eyes that Adam was certain that the women of his acquaintance would fall for. Add in an empathic understanding of the female mind, and any man would be lucky to get the time of day from a woman in Y.J.'s presence.
But, under the circumstances, Y.J. was a kid in over his head and he looked it. Tears weren't far from those brown eyes, and the lip showed evidence of some heavy duty biting to keep those tears from flowing yet again. Adam had intended to offer a handshake, to recognize that Y.J. was no longer the twelve year old child who left several years ago but one look and the teen-ager was drawn into a badly needed hug.
There wasn't time for more; the rest would wait for a proper reunion back at Sanctuary. "Where's your stuff?" Adam asked, grabbing a satchel that Y.J. pointed out while the boy hefted the other suitcase. "This it?" Not much to hold the memories of fifteen years of life. Adam resolved to add a bit more. It was the least he could do: set this kid up through the Underground with a pair of foster parents who knew what childhood ought to be and then keep track on a potential high-power talent. After what he had been through, Y.J. deserved a normal life or at least as normal a life as any mutant could have.
A dog. That was what the kid needed. Something that would love him unconditionally for himself, and not for what he could do for others. Adam mentally added a love for pets to his requirements for the foster-parents-to-be. "C'mon," Adam urged. "We've got a crisis to solve. Then a life or two to put back together."
A glimmer of hope spread to Yves-Jacques' face.
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Brennan tested the rope that he tied around the largest and closest boulder he could find, and slung the trank gun over his shoulder. Would it be strong enough to hold him? He really hoped so, because his mutant powers so did not include flying. A little blasting up into the air now and again with some terra firma to push against, but flight was seriously out of the picture.
Shalimar's human mind hadn't returned, but there was nothing wrong with her intelligence. She had decided that tormenting the pesky human on the ledge was just the thing to show how seriously annoyed she was with the whole trapped-with-no-way-out deal, and Brennan was scared that one of these episodes would end up with Jesse being rolled off the edge, screaming his life out on the way down to a messy death. Brennan had already sent a lightning bolt careening down twice more to keep Shalimar in her place, but it was clear that such maneuvers were a stop gap measure.
Nothing like the present. Brennan tested the strength of the rope one last time, took a deep breath, and jumped over the edge.
The cliff face met him in a rush, and he just barely got his feet in front of him in time to take the blow. Down below the snarling stopped as Shalimar paid attention to what was happening far above her head. Good; that gave Brennan more time to pay out the line and ease his way down. More time to spin out waiting for Adam's arrival with help.
He ran out of rope some twelve feet above Jesse's ledge. Two pairs of eyes were staring at him, one set feral-golden and filled with dislike and the other barely able to keep themselves open. Neither pair wanted him there.
"Brennan," Jesse called out, his voice hoarse with despair, "what are you doing? You're never going to be able to get up out of here, let alone down safely. Don't throw your own life away. Wait for Adam. You can't do this, Brennan."
"Watch me," Brennan challenged, estimating the jump. Two choices here: either trank Shalimar from where he hung and hope that she didn't roll off the edge in a drugged stupor, or drop to Jesse's ledge and hope that a) he didn't roll off, taking Jesse with him and b) the ledge didn't crumble beneath their combined weight. Well, if the ledge could withstand Shalimar's jumping back and forth, it could certainly take a little something like two hundred pounds of Mulwray landing on top. Carefully he worked the knot loose, hanging on by a slender rope until he was positioned as close as he could get. No good: he'd land on top of Jesse. And that would almost certainly cause another gush of blood to ooze out of the man's leg, blood which Brennan was willing to bet Jesse wouldn't do well without. Brennan winced; he'd done right to keep Shalimar away from the molecular: she'd been worrying at the wound, tormenting the man as though he were a mouse and she the cat. Was that blood on Shalimar's face? And whose blood was it? Brennan shuddered.
Now or never: Brennan let go and sailed through the air.
He almost misjudged it, landing away from Jesse but one leg sliding over the edge. A shower of rocks cascaded off of the ledge, begging him to follow. Brennan declined. He hastily swung the leg back up onto the ledge, sweat beading his brow and shaking from the close call.
"You idiot," was Jesse's greeting.
"You're welcome," Brennan shot back. "You get your own personal electrified fence, and that's all you can say?"
"Brennan, you've just killed yourself," Jesse returned wearily. His face had gotten white, Brennan noted with dismay. The blood loss was getting to the molecular. Shock wouldn't be long in coming. "How do you expect Adam to haul us all up? No telekinetics on this team, or hadn't you realized?"
"Leave you down here with Shalimar much longer, and we won't have any moleculars, either," Brennan retorted. "Or maybe you like being cat food?"
"Brennan—"
"Adam's on his way here, with help," Brennan said. "He told me that he picked up some muscle, and is bringing more rope than that measly piece of twine that you packed."
"Hey," Jesse quipped feebly, "you were the one who lost Shalimar. I said to trank her. You wanted to play nice."
"No wonder Shalimar's pissed at you," Brennan told him. "She's out for revenge."
"Doing a damn good job of it," Jesse replied, trying and failing to keep his eyes open. He was beginning to shake, too, Brennan noted with dismay; going into shock from blood loss and pain. Brennan shook himself out of his jacket and wrapped it around his teammate, drawing the man up against his chest for the added warmth.
"Damn good job." Jesse's voice trailed off, and he settled limply into Brennan's grasp, giving in to the inevitable darkness. Over on the other ledge Shalimar snarled at the pair of him, nonverbally promising mayhem when she got over there. Brennan crackled some electrons at her warningly.
Just a little bit longer. Adam, where are you?
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"So, nobody's been able to get through to Shalimar?"
If Adam was taking the corners a little bit fast, then Y.J. didn't mind. The exhilarating rush of air on his face with the top down on the jeep more than made up for it, and the danger was enough to put teen age adrenaline into glorious action.
"Not yet. I've tried giving her some sedatives, but once they wear off…" The shrug told the whole story.
"I'll handle her." Ah, the self-confidence of youth! Y.J. had no conception of failure. Why should he? He'd been manipulating the emotions of others for years, doing it so well that they never knew what had happened. He'd amassed a stash of money for his father that would make Brennan drool with envy and all this before being able to get a driver's license. "Shalimar and Jesse and me are a team!" Y.J. went on excitedly. "She'll remember me. I'll be able to help her."
"It's not really Shalimar." Adam tried to caution the youth. "She's out of control, Y.J. I don't want you getting close to her. She probably won't recognize you."
"She'll recognize me," Y.J. said firmly. "I'll make her recognize me. Who's this Brennan guy? New guy on the team?"
"Yes. An elemental. Electricity is his specialty."
"Old guy?"
Adam glanced over at the fifteen year old. "Pretty old. Yeah. Not as ancient as me."
The jibe bypassed Y.J. completely. "That's okay. Even for young guys, it's hard to keep up with ferals," he said seriously. "Dr. Adam, you really need a psionic on your team." And let the words hang there, out in the open.
Adam covered over a wince. For all his psychic powers, Y.J. was still only an empath, able to sense feelings but not thoughts. He didn't know about Emma, didn't realize that Adam had agreed that Mutant X needed a psionic but that Y.J. hadn't fit the bill. The talent was there but not the maturity, not the availability and, most importantly, not the ability to work as part of the team.
There is was, out in the open in Adam's own mind. The niggling doubts had been there three years ago when Adam considered fighting Y.J.'s father for custody, but Adam had never really admitted to himself that he didn't trust Y.J. to the extent that Mutant X needed. A nice enough kid, but there was something…
Adam really hoped that Y.J. was reading his emotions as mere concern over Shalimar and Jesse. Y.J. would want to be asked to join Mutant X, was expecting it, and that just wasn't going to happen. But now was not the time to be telling this kid. That deserved a quieter moment, a 'man to man' discussion to put Y.J. onto the right path. These were life decisions, and not things to be said in a jeep flying around corners.
"Yes," Adam finally said. "We'll have to talk about that."
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Shalimar barely looked human. Her teeth were bared in a feral snarl, her clothes ripped beyond wearability, and her expression clearly promised slow dismemberment for the two humans on the other ledge.
It had started to rain, a gentle drizzle that soaked everything and everyone in the vicinity. Brennan looked up at the sky in dismay, searching for a break in the clouds. This was so not good: any attempt by the elemental to generate an electrical spark would result in a massive short circuit. Brennan didn't want to try to predict what the end result would be, but he suspected two human shish-kabobs wouldn't be an unreasonable expectation.
Damn. That let out their major form of self-defense. Brennan had been counting on his mutant powers to keep Shalimar at bay until Adam could arrive. He pulled the trank gun closer to his side. It was still a possibility, but had the same drawbacks: Shalimar, sedated, could easily roll off the edge to her death.
I'd like to say that my mother told me that there would be days like this, but I don't think in her wildest dreams she would have imagined this particular scenario. Adam, where are you?
He jostled the limp body that he held next to his chest. Jesse's leg was still stuck out awkwardly in front of him but the bleeding had slowed to a gentle ooze. Brennan wasn't certain if that was a good or a bad sign, decided it really didn't matter. Brennan was in no position to do anything about it one way or the other. "Jess? You still with me?"
There was a mumbled reply, followed by, "aren't we going home yet?"
"Pretty soon, bro." Brennan scanned the top of the cliff, hoping to see a familiar face pop up with words of encouragement. Things like that only happen in movies; cavalry coming over the hill, clouds breaking into rain to save Ma and Pa's crops. Regular poor slobs like us don't get that kind of luck. "How're you doing?"
Jesse managed a weak excuse for a smile. "I could really use a hot cup of coffee right about now."
"Me, too," Brennan admitted.
"Morphine would also be nice."
Brennan glanced down at his teammate and cursed under his breath. Every time he looked at him, the man seemed to be grower paler and closer to death's door. How could a small thing like a hike in the woods turn into a such a disaster? The answer was simple: they were mutants. The world really was out to get them, in whatever fashion seemed most expedient at the moment. And right now there was a three for one sale going on: not only was Shalimar screaming yellow bonkers but she was about to take both Brennan and Jesse off of the cliff with her. Brennan tried not to think of how much he hated falling off of cliffs. Not that he made a habit of it to know how it felt, but that was one excursion that he'd be happy to avoid.
Shalimar growled, riveting his attention back onto her. She was working herself up again, pacing back and forth. If the events of the past hour were any indication, she'd be trying for a leap over to their ledge. Only this time Brennan's private source of power was out. He hefted the trank gun, hoping that the rain hadn't gotten into the powder that would propel the dart. That would be bad. Really bad. Not to mention that there was only one dart left.
Jesse felt him shift, and winced. "Brennan?"
"Hang in there, bro. Think I'm gonna be a little busy real soon."
Jesse levered himself up onto his elbows to see, ignoring the signals that his leg was sending brainward. "What can I do?"
"Try not to get in the way."
Jesse squinted at the narrow ledge. It was barely large enough for the two of them, let alone a pouncing feral. "How come I get all the tough tasks to do?"
"Look out; here she comes!" Brennan flashed up the trank gun and fired. His aim was true: the dart soared straight for his feral teammate.
But insanity had not altered Shalimar's intelligence. Somehow she altered her path mid-leap, and the dart passed within scant inches of her torso.
She landed on the ledge. If she had had a tail, it would have been lashing back and forth. She growled again.
"Shalimar, you don't want to do this." Brennan tossed the now useless trank gun away and scrambled to his feet, dropping Jesse to the floor of the ledge, a startled groan in reply. There was no time to be gentle. "Shalimar, it's me! Brennan!" He tried to snap a few electrons out; a gentle hiss in the rain warned him not to go any further with that thought.
All right, gonna have to do this the hard way. Brennan balanced on the balls of his feet, ready to kick. Shalimar was faster, but he had the longer reach and Brennan intended to make best use of that fact. He put himself between the feral and the molecular.
Shalimar lashed out. Brennan blocked. Fire slapped across his arm but Shalimar fell back. Volley one: Brennan. He kept his eyes on, following every dancing move.
For whatever reason, she wanted to get to Jesse. While Brennan watched Shalimar, Shalimar tracked every movement that Jesse made. Sick pack member, for the wolves to single out and kill? For Shalimar was operating purely on animal instinct right now. A horrid thought struck him: was Shalimar so far gone that she intended to kill Jesse? It certainly looked like it.
This was so not good. Brennan chanced a glance behind him. "Jesse, see if you can move further back."
"Not much room." But Jesse did as he was told, painfully hitching himself back until his back was against the far end of the cliff face. There was still precious little room for the combatants. Brennan could see the molecular out of the corner of his eye, though his attention remained on Shalimar.
She growled, looking for a way past her enemy to her prey. She feinted, clearly intent on drawing Brennan out. Brennan declined to be suckered. He held his position between Shalimar and Jesse, holding his arms up in a classic defense, rocking back and forth from one foot to the other. She feinted again.
The feint wasn't a feint; it was for real. Shalimar struck a blow; Brennan blocked downward. Shalimar whirled into a kick that would have taken Brennan's head off if he hadn't ducked. She turned it into a romp across the side of the cliff face, lashing out with the other foot.
That one did connect. Brennan saw stars, felt himself falling—grab! Grab! Going over the edge! Grab on!
He clutched at the ledge with his fingertips, the blood rushing through his ears, adrenaline turning him hyper-acute. Pebbles bounced off the cliff below him, requesting his presence a thousand feet below. One hand slipped, and he flailed frantically until he was able to seize the edge and clamp on again with desperation.
Then he heard it: screams mixed with growls. Shalimar, killing Jesse.
Panic gave him strength. He hoisted himself up, blessing the countless hours spent working out.
She wasn't killing the molecular. It was far worse than that. She was torturing him, making him wish for death, a cat playing with a trapped mouse. A slender giggle slipped out, and she kicked Jesse in the leg again. The broken one. The one with the bone fragments sticking out. Blood spurted forth. And the response from her victim was predictable.
There was nothing sane about Shalimar at this moment. She giggled once more.
"Shalimar!" Brennan yelled. She whirled around, her lips drawn back in a livid snarl. She'd thought him dead, sprawled on the rocks below.
No time for anything else. No other options. No trank gun. No martial arts wizardry. And in the rain.
Brennan blasted her. The lightning bolt made a horrid counterpoint to the clouds above.
He missed.