It was disconcerting in the extreme. Merc had to remind himself that it was only temporary.
Funny. As much as Merc hated being a mutant, he also hated being a regular. At least, this regular.
While in possession of him, Merc could access the man’s memories of his family, village, friends, the jobs he’d had over his lifetime—all except his current job. For that, there was only fear.
And ghouls.
The man had seen Flynn’s monsters.
Merc knew that they prowled the perimeter of Flynn’s operations in the jungle. Perhaps Juan had run into them.
Merc neutralized the man’s fear, numbing him. The transport slowed as it neared the mine’s gate. One by one, each man showed his ID, did an eye scan, then stamped a time card and entered the premises.
From Juan’s eyes, Merc could tell the grounds looked nothing like the mystique Flynn had cast over the premises. There was a heavy-duty twelve-foot chain-link fence topped with two rows of razor wire. Signs posted every few feet on the fence—in English and Spanish—warned it was electrified.
Juan walked along a path into the jungle inside the compound. When the foliage cleared, a huge fortress came into view. Had to be at least twenty feet high and was at least twice the size of Liege’s fort back in Colorado.
Was this a prison? What the hell did Flynn have going on here? Nothing here looked like the mine the Legion owned. Were they working below ground? Where were they offloading their spoils? Where were the chemical vats used in processing the minerals?
Guards patrolled the battlements with automatic rifles at the ready. An alarm sounded for the incoming team, then the fort gate opened, exposing two sets of multi-bar turnstiles. As the men entered, a green light flashed with the word “Clear” in several languages.
Merc, riding Juan as he approached the entrance, could get no further. He was yanked back to his reality, sitting on the floor in his rented room.
It was late afternoon when Ash hurried back to the room she shared with Merc. She carried a bag of ice-cold bottled water and another bag with their dinner. She’d skipped lunch, so she was starving.
She knocked on the door, but there was no answer. A flash of disappointment hit her. She’d been hoping to have a few minutes with Merc before he left. Maybe he was showering or on the phone.
She let herself into their room. A glance showed no Merc. She must have looked too fast, because a second glance showed him sitting cross-legged on the floor by the kitchen counter, covered by a long afternoon shadow. He was meditating or something—completely oblivious to her return.
Ash sat in front of him, setting her bags aside. His khaki eyes opened slowly. He stared at her, a little dazed. Man, the guy went deep in his meditations.
He blinked then frowned and said, “You can see me?”
“Yeess.” She gave that single word a little more emphasis than was needed. “Did you think you were invisible?”
“I did.”
“Oh.” She chuckled nervously. “Well, then, surprise! I brought us dinner. Empanadas and churros.”
“Not a health freak, are you?”
“Not exactly. Not when I’m on vacation, anyway.”
Merc took an empanada and a napkin. She opened a bottle of water for him. “How was your day?” he asked.
Ash took a bite. “I have questions.”
He nodded, then lowered his gaze from her eyes to her mouth. “I have answers, but you aren’t going to like them.”
“I already don’t like my questions.”
“Remember when I told you that you would have to choose between the devil and your bliss? Now’s the time to do that.”
“I can’t do that without answers.”
“I know. Ask me your questions.”
“How did you do the miracles? Magic? Hypnosis?”
“No. Physics. I can manipulate energy. I do that when I want to set a force field around me or something else.”
“Which accounts for the way no one can get close to the death chairs.”
“Right.”
“One of the murals showed other things that happened. The shooters who surrounded you but could not hit you.”
Merc nodded. “Just an energy bubble.”
“Prove it.”
“Try to touch me.”
She reached out to his chest. “I’m touching you.”
He pulled a long breath, seemingly in no hurry to set the energy field. “Take your hand away. Now try.”
This time, she couldn’t get closer than six inches. “How are you doing that?” There was nothing hard stopping her, but her hand got only so close before it couldn’t get closer. Just as it had the times she’d tried to touch the skeleton chairs.
“Energy. I assert an energy from my body that is equal to the energy approaching it, resulting in resistance. I could make the energy I assert greater than that coming at it, which would reverse incursion attempts.”
“Like you did with that gun battle. And the rocks those guys threw at you while you were painting over the murals.”
“Exactly.”
Ash folded her knees and wrapped an arm around them. She picked up another empanada and waved it at him as she spoke. “That blocks the big stuff. But what about gases? Could you still be poisoned while in your bubble?”
“Possibly. Depends on the intent of the bubble. I could allow oxygen through, but not carbon monoxide or other toxins.”
“Or you could set a bubble over someone and block their oxygen.”
“Right.”
“That’s scary.”
“It is—for regulars.”
“You’ve used that term before. What do you mean by it?”
“Regular humans. I’m a mutant human. So are the members of my team.”
“Summer too?”
“Summer’s a mutant, but not a fighter.” He smiled. “She’s a landscape architect. What a person is before they come in determines what they become after they’re changed.”
“Selena?”
“Yes.”
“So you’re fighting other mutants.”
“Right. Our job is to protect regulars. We’re supposed to do so without being noticed, without interfering in human free will. I really fucked that all up here.”
“You did.” She finished her empanada and picked up a churro. “How did you become a mutant?”
“Through genetic modifications.”
Ash frowned. “You realize that all your answers only give me more questions.”
“Yeah. This isn’t something you can comprehend after a single conversation. It’s been ten years for me, and I’m still discovering new things about being a mutant.”
“Like what?”
“Like having the ability to set curses.”
Ash gasped. “Like up at the death pits?”
He nodded. “What I don’t know is how to undo a curse I’ve set.”
“Ask the padre here in town.”
“I did, sort of. He said it wasn’t up to me, that it was God’s will. But I disagree. I set it; I should be able to un-set it.”
“Do you have a mentor in your mutant world?”
“Liege, but he was formed at the same time I was. He has stronger skills in many areas, but not the skill of setting curses.”