first brush with death. I just hoped I didn’t get the giggles every time, because we would face many more before the fight was over, and I didn’t want people to think I was insane.
Dr. Angus Seward stopped by my room in the middle of a boring dinner of broiled chicken breast, rosemary pasta, and steamed snap peas, all courtesy of William. Food staples had been brought in, but the still-assembling kitchen staff hadn’t quite organized themselves. Blah or not, it was better food than I’d had in months. The carb-heavy meal filled me up quickly, and I started feeling human again. So to speak.
Gage stayed nearby and acknowledged Dr. Seward witha nod. The older man was tall and lean, and sported a shock of more-white-than-black hair and a neatly trimmed peppered beard. A white lab coat and tan slacks completed the ensemble. He looked like a dirty icicle on two legs.
“You have quite a strong constitution, Trance,” Dr. Seward said. He held a chart against his chest. “Cipher said the combined blast blackened the motel room walls.”
News to me. And the use of our code names was distracting. MHC had its own rules of conduct when engaging Rangers. Code names were used exclusively during official business (which was technically all the time). Something about keeping private and professional lives separate.
“So am I free to get out of bed yet?” I speared another bite of chicken and twirled the fork between my fingers.
“As soon as you feel able, yes. All of your blood work is within acceptable limits, and if your appetite is any indication, you are well on your way to recovering from the power spike.”
“What does acceptable limits mean?” Gage asked.
“It means she never attended a regular physician as a teenager or adult, so all of our medical records for Trance end when she was ten years old. Her powers were completely different then. Her body and metabolism have also changed in fifteen years, so, like the rest of you, we are relearning your standard functions. With Trance, we’re practically starting over. After a few more days of observation, my conclusion will be a bit more … ah, conclusive.”
A scientist that sounded like a human being; I could learn to like this guy. “So what you’re saying is that I’m free to go,while you keep trying to reach your conclusive conclusions about my condition?”
Dr. Seward tilted his head. “Precisely.”
“Fabulous. What about Specter?”
“As far as our records show, his physical body is still in Manhattan Island Prison. However, his astral powers, which he has obviously regained, allow him to move freely, unlike many of his compatriots. We’re doing what we can to protect you.”
“Which is what? All Specter needs is a weak or semiconscious mind to channel his will, right? That’s why he was able to attack us so easily at that motel. How do we keep him out of the HQ?”
“You’ve been safe here since you arrived, because experience tells us that Specter requires time to recharge after every possession. It’s been thirty-six hours since your interaction, so our window is closing fast.”
“He could attack us here at any time?” Gage asked.
Seward nodded. “Which is one of the reasons we are keeping the staff to minimum numbers. The fewer people running around HQ, the fewer chances Specter has to use someone against you.”
“He first showed up almost thirty years ago. In all that time, the MHC hasn’t developed protection?”
“Unfortunately, no. Powers of mind control and telepathy are difficult to fight, because they aren’t physically manifested. Trance’s original power worked through eye contact, so it had a physical limitation. Specter doesn’t even require proximity, much less contact. Technology still hasn’t providedus with the ability to censor someone as powerful as Specter. During the War, our only real HQ protection was Static.”
“Who?” I asked. The name didn’t ring a bell.
“Static was a telepath capable of
Dr. Angus Seward stopped by my room in the middle of a boring dinner of broiled chicken breast, rosemary pasta, and steamed snap peas, all courtesy of William. Food staples had been brought in, but the still-assembling kitchen staff hadn’t quite organized themselves. Blah or not, it was better food than I’d had in months. The carb-heavy meal filled me up quickly, and I started feeling human again. So to speak.
Gage stayed nearby and acknowledged Dr. Seward witha nod. The older man was tall and lean, and sported a shock of more-white-than-black hair and a neatly trimmed peppered beard. A white lab coat and tan slacks completed the ensemble. He looked like a dirty icicle on two legs.
“You have quite a strong constitution, Trance,” Dr. Seward said. He held a chart against his chest. “Cipher said the combined blast blackened the motel room walls.”
News to me. And the use of our code names was distracting. MHC had its own rules of conduct when engaging Rangers. Code names were used exclusively during official business (which was technically all the time). Something about keeping private and professional lives separate.
“So am I free to get out of bed yet?” I speared another bite of chicken and twirled the fork between my fingers.
“As soon as you feel able, yes. All of your blood work is within acceptable limits, and if your appetite is any indication, you are well on your way to recovering from the power spike.”
“What does acceptable limits mean?” Gage asked.
“It means she never attended a regular physician as a teenager or adult, so all of our medical records for Trance end when she was ten years old. Her powers were completely different then. Her body and metabolism have also changed in fifteen years, so, like the rest of you, we are relearning your standard functions. With Trance, we’re practically starting over. After a few more days of observation, my conclusion will be a bit more … ah, conclusive.”
A scientist that sounded like a human being; I could learn to like this guy. “So what you’re saying is that I’m free to go,while you keep trying to reach your conclusive conclusions about my condition?”
Dr. Seward tilted his head. “Precisely.”
“Fabulous. What about Specter?”
“As far as our records show, his physical body is still in Manhattan Island Prison. However, his astral powers, which he has obviously regained, allow him to move freely, unlike many of his compatriots. We’re doing what we can to protect you.”
“Which is what? All Specter needs is a weak or semiconscious mind to channel his will, right? That’s why he was able to attack us so easily at that motel. How do we keep him out of the HQ?”
“You’ve been safe here since you arrived, because experience tells us that Specter requires time to recharge after every possession. It’s been thirty-six hours since your interaction, so our window is closing fast.”
“He could attack us here at any time?” Gage asked.
Seward nodded. “Which is one of the reasons we are keeping the staff to minimum numbers. The fewer people running around HQ, the fewer chances Specter has to use someone against you.”
“He first showed up almost thirty years ago. In all that time, the MHC hasn’t developed protection?”
“Unfortunately, no. Powers of mind control and telepathy are difficult to fight, because they aren’t physically manifested. Trance’s original power worked through eye contact, so it had a physical limitation. Specter doesn’t even require proximity, much less contact. Technology still hasn’t providedus with the ability to censor someone as powerful as Specter. During the War, our only real HQ protection was Static.”
“Who?” I asked. The name didn’t ring a bell.
“Static was a telepath capable of
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