I’m beat. It’s a good kind of tired, though—today was a productive day. No time spent running and hiding, no time wasted. We cataloged the contents of our Chests, Sam managed to print up some solid fake IDs, and I got some training time in the newly refurbished Lecture Hall.
“Two days from now, I hope,” I answer Sarah, dropping down to the floor to knock out a quick set of push-ups before bed. “I want to get everyone together in the Lecture Hall tomorrow, see how the team looks. I don’t expect much trouble recovering Five’s Chest, but you never know. It’ll be good to have everyone get some experience together. And then we’re off.”
Sarah’s gone quiet. I look up at her. She sits on the edge of the bed—our bed, still weird to even think that—her legs curled beneath her. She wears her pajamas—a V-neck gray T-shirt and a pair of my boxers. She’s watching me, but isn’t paying attention to a word I’m saying. I clear my throat and she blinks her eyes, flashing a lopsided smile. “Sorry, you distracted me with push-ups. What were we talking about?”
I sit down on the bed next to her, curling my fingers through her just-brushed hair. She smiles at me and suddenly I’m not so tired anymore. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about what could happen with us sharing a bed. Things have been hectic since we’ve been in Chicago, between Ella’s nightmares, Five’s call for help, and my own insomnia. Plus with everyone else sleeping in the next rooms, it hasn’t felt right.
“Florida,” I remind her.
“Oh yeah,” Sarah says. “You lived there for a while, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, a few months. Why?”
“Just trying to fill in some blanks. There’s still a lot I don’t know about you, John Smith.” She puts her hand on my cheek, lets her fingers run down my neck, and then along my shoulder. “Also, talking helps distract me from what I really want to do.”
My hand slips through her hair, down the back of her neck, and slowly dances across her spine. Sarah shivers a little and I slide closer, bending my head down towards hers. “You know, it seems pretty quiet tonight. I think everyone’s asleep.”
Right on cue, someone knocks on our door. Sarah’s eyes widen and she laughs, her face flushed. “Is horrible timing one of your Legacies?”
I open the door to find Six waiting, her coat on, like she’s just come in from outside. She glances over my shoulder at Sarah, then catches my exasperated look, and cracks a devilish smirk. “Oops,” she says, “interrupting?”
“It’s cool,” I say, playing it off. “What’s up?”
“You need to come to the roof and see this. BK’s going nuts.”
We pull on some clothes over our pajamas and then race down the hall after Six. I can hear BK before I’m even at the staircase leading to the roof. The sound he makes is like a cross between a wolf howling and an elephant blowing through its trunk—it’s loud and soulful, not a bad sound at all, but totally not of Earth.
“He won’t shut up,” Nine says, as soon as I emerge onto the roof. He rubs his temples, probably exhausted from using his telepathy to try calming BK.
He is still pretty much in beagle form, although his shape bulges and stretches erratically, like he might change into something else at any second. The antler from Eight’s Chest is clenched in his teeth, the sound not at all muffled by it. Flecks of drool drip down the antler and into BK’s fur. He stands up on his hind legs, his snout pointed at the moon, the oddly melodic noise flowing out of him. It looks like he’s in some kind of trance.
Eight teleports in from downstairs. “I’ve got Sam and Malcolm monitoring emergency channels, just in case some nosy neighbor calls the cops,” he says. “I don’t know what’s gotten into him, John, but I think it’s got something to do with that antler.”
“No shit,” Six says. She snaps her fingers at BK. “Quiet, Bernie Kosar!”
BK doesn’t even seem to notice. I spot Marina over at the edge of the rooftop, using her night vision to keep an eye out for anyone that might spot us. Luckily, we’re high enough and Chicago is loud enough that I don’t think anyone will hear BK. Even so, I don’t want to take any chances.
“Did you try taking the antler from him?” I ask.
“Yeah,” Nine replies. “He didn’t like that. Growled at me and wouldn’t let go. I didn’t want to hurt him.”
“That doesn’t sound like BK,” Sarah says, her eyes widening with concern.
“Think this is some kind of Chimæra nightmare?” Six suggests.
I shake my head. All this weirdness with BK started when he got hold of that antler. It doesn’t seem like anything in our Chests should work against us. Even my bracelet, which hurt like hell initially, turned out to be helpful. There should be a rational explanation for this.
“Where is Ella?” Sarah asks. “Could this be like what’s happening with her, but for Chimæra?”
“Sleeping right through it,” Marina replies. “And this seems totally different.”
I reach out with my telepathy—Bernie Kosar, you need to be quiet now—but don’t get any response. Not seeing any other option but to try and wrestle the antler away from him, I step forward. Before I take a second step, Bernie drops onto all fours, letting go of the antler. His howling echoes in my ears for a few seconds after it’s over. I grab the antler with my telekinesis and pluck the slobber-covered thing out of the air. BK pants happily, looking around at everyone.
I make eye contact with Nine, both of us patched into BK telepathically. “It’s like he doesn’t know what just happened,” I say.
“Are you drunk, BK?” Nine asks, mystified.
BK bounds over to us, tail wagging. He’s got the same look of dog euphoria that he gets when we’ve just come back from a really satisfying run outside.
“You freaked us out,” I tell him. “You know you were up here making all kinds of noise, right?”
BK sits down at my feet. Sarah crouches down to scratch his ears.
“Can you ask him what he was doing?” Sarah says, looking up at me and Nine.
“Trying,” I reply, and Nine nods too, squinting at BK. “It’s a lot of images and feelings, you know? Not exactly words.”