Chapter Thirteen
Sleep was impossible. Even with a heating pad tucked against her spine and her braid coiled beneath her neck, her body floundered with too many questions and not enough answers.
And she feared the nightmares she knew would come.
By the time Gunner signaled breakfast was ready, her eyes had just closed.
Sighing, she quickly refreshed and re-braided her long, dark brown hair before emerging from her shelter.
The same food as yesterday was available, and although every bite made her gag, Gemma figured she’d need the energy for whatever Gunner had planned with the sealed chamber.
She forced her way through as much food as she could muster.
“I’ll meet you down there in ten,” Gunner said, rushing past Gemma as she ate her last bite. The man was always hopping from one thing to another. Did he ever rest?
After cleaning her dish, Gemma meandered in the direction where Gunner had found the door, in the temple’s lower wing. The cool stone bit through the soles of her boots. Here, a reverent hush blanketed the ruins, broken only by the soft hum of the ultralights strung along the walls.
A subtle prickle rose beneath her skin, like static, as she descended further.
She flexed her fingers and shook them out, but the sensation lingered, tracing the tendons of her hands.
She was scratching at her palms when a clatter echoed from nearby, followed by a muttered curse and a familiar voice.
“I swear, if one more stone shifts beneath my boot, I’m blaming the ancestors.” Gunner had finally arrived.
Gemma couldn’t stop the small smile that arose. For an archaeologist, he was extremely clumsy.
“Okay, kiddo,” he said when he reached her, his breath misting. A bundle of tools was strapped across his back, and his grin was half-swallowed by a thermal scarf. “Ready to prod the belly of a forgotten civilization?”
“Not really. But what other choice do I have?”
He gave her a thumbs up. “That’s the spirit. You look like shit, by the way.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“I meant that lovingly. Want a stim tab?”
She blinked. What in the blazes was a stim tab? “I already took one,” she lied.
He nodded, satisfied, and stepped toward the descending ramp that led to the sealed chamber, scanner in hand. As they walked, the temple lights overhead flickered once then settled. The silence felt deeper down here. Heavier. More aware.
“Hmm,” Gunner started. “Same energy patterns as yesterday. No temperature fluctuations, no seismic shifts. It’s like the thing’s asleep.” He cast a look over his shoulder and winked. “But you’re my wild card.”
A chill shot down her spine. What she wouldn’t give to blend into the background again. To return to the life where she’d been just a doctor’s apprentice, and no one even seemed to know she existed.
When they reached the entrance to the hidden chamber, Gunner stopped and swung his toolkit onto the ground with a grunt.
The stone door in front of them loomed—massive, smooth, and almost deceptively simple.
Its surface was the same red stone as the mountain but darker around the edges, as if heat had once licked the seams.
Gunner tapped the center of it. “Still gives no readings. Which means either it’s completely dead, or so alive that it’s hiding from us.”
Gemma stepped closer. The itch in her hands crawled to her wrists, pulsing faintly in time with her heartbeat. A vibration gathered in her chest.
“I think,” she said slowly, “it’s . . . waiting.”
One of Gunner’s eyebrows lifted. “You say that with unsettling confidence.”
She didn’t answer. She pressed her palm against the stone. It was cold at first, then a hint of warmth tickled her fingers.
Gemma gasped and staggered back, clutching her hand when a zap of pain lashed up her arm.
“Whoa, what happened?” Gunner asked.
“I’m not sure.” Gemma narrowed her gaze at the door. You know what to do, a prickle said in the back of her mind. Forcing the door open was out of the question, but commanding it . . .
She pulled on that unwelcome—but familiar—thread of power she’d felt during the battle in Zion. Maybe she could use it just this once without succumbing to it.
Yes, give in just a little, the voice in the back of her mind spoke, foreign yet familiar. Gemma should be afraid of it, but she strangely wasn’t. It was like a familiar friend, drawing her in, daring her to stroke the part of her DNA that had become alien.
“Gemma?” Gunner said. “Is this normal?” He waved a circle around his eyes.
Hers must’ve turned purple. But she was too absorbed in the prickling sensation running through her body, from her toes to the top of her head, to answer Gunner’s question.
She held out her hand, palm toward the door. “Oporp.”
A thin, violet glow traced along the seams.
Gunner sucked in a breath. “Oh, stars. You knew the language. And the door . . .”
The glow widened, branching outward like cracks in glass. But instead of shattering, the lines pulsed then curved in elegant, unfamiliar patterns, turning one door into two.
The doors rumbled. Dust spilled from the seams, and glyphs spilled down the walls of the corridor in shades of glowing, purple light. Gemma’s heart thudded loudly in her chest.
Next to her, Gunner whispered, “That’s the same Revarian script I’ve seen throughout this entire temple.”
The door stopped grumbling, and the glow dimmed but did not vanish.
Gemma lowered her hand, her breathing shallow. Her fingers trembled. The door had actually obeyed. And she’d spoken in the same dialect from her nightmares. But how?
A tsunami of desolation slammed into her. Her lungs seized; her head swam; her legs shook. She pressed a fist to her chest as she tumbled to the floor.
Beads of sweat trailed down her temples and her spine. She tugged on the scarf around her neck, ripping it off as she gasped for breath.
Gunner crouched in front of her. “Deep breaths. In through the nose. Out through the mouth.”
But the air wouldn’t come, no matter how hard she tried to slow her breathing.
The world around her began to spin. Darkness formed at the edges of her vision.
“Oh, stars,” Gunner swore, digging through his backsack rapidly—
Everything went black.
A rhythmic whoosh and the quiet beep of machines greeted her before any coherent thought could form. Blackness gave way to a stark white glare.
Her body felt as though gravity had learned new rules since she’d passed out. A thin sheet was draped over her legs, and the cool hardness of an exam table was beneath her back.
A voice, soft and measured, broke through her fog. “She’s awake.”
Gemma’s eyes fluttered open, revealing the mobile lab surrounding her.
Doctor Manae appeared at her side. “How are you feeling?”
Gemma’s throat was dry, but she managed a small whisper. “Disoriented.”
“Understandable.” Doctor Manae offered a small smile. “That reaction was intense, but not unexpected. You channeled a flood of energy. I want to run some scans, if that’s okay.”
Gemma nodded, and soft taps sounded as Doctor Manae fiddled with her electropad.
Moments later, the arch scanner was positioned above her, and it passed over Gemma from the head of the bed to her toes, its blue light warm on her skin.
When it finally shut down, Gemma tried to sit upright, but pain flared in her chest. Her vision wavered.
Doctor Manae placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Take it slow.”
The doctor turned to an electroglass screen as a series of data populated in glowing white text. “Hmm. Your blood pressure’s still elevated. Heart rate’s stabilizing. But your neural activity is . . .” She trailed off, frowning slightly. “Interesting.”
Gemma tried to focus through the haze, her gaze catching on the screen. “Interesting how?”
Doctor Manae looked at her again, more curious than concerned. Then her fingers danced across the electroglass. More data loaded, revealing a strand of twisting DNA with a cluster of data points blinking erratically.
“There,” the doctor murmured, more to herself than Gemma. “Same protein markers we saw last week. Revarian in origin, but now they’ve multiplied. Rapidly.”
Gemma’s pulse ticked up. “What does that mean?”
Doctor Manae didn’t answer right away. She zoomed in on the DNA strand, isolating a new thread forming between existing pairs.
“It means,” she said gently, “whatever you accessed down there amplified the mutation. Your human DNA is no longer dominant in your blood.”
Gemma’s stomach churned. She’d known it was possible she would change into something else, but for it to be happening so fast . . .
Tears pooled in her lower eyelids.
The doctor turned toward her. “We need to be careful from here on out. Not just with the door, but with you.”
Gemma stared at the floor, her fingers curling against the sheets.
The door to the lab hissed open.
Gemma didn’t look up until she heard boots cross the threshold and a breathless, too-casual voice say, “So, no levitating yet? That’s disappointing.”
Gunner.
He slowed when he saw her face. “Hey,” he said more softly, approaching the side of the bed. “Just checking in. Making sure you didn’t . . . y’know, explode.”
Doctor Manae gave him a pointed look but didn’t dismiss him. Instead, she adjusted a few readings on the electroglass screen. “Keep her calm. I’ll be back shortly,” she said before stepping out of the room.
The silence that followed was heavy.
Gunner rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry. That joke sounded a lot better in my head.”
She tried to smile, but it didn’t quite land.
Several beats of silence passed.
“Do you mind if I call Christian?” Gemma broke the quiet. “I promise I’ll be okay alone in here.”
“Can you keep it together if you do that? Doctor Manae can be really scary when she gets pissed off.”
“I’ll be fine.” Christian’s voice was a balm against her aching soul after all.
“Okay. I’ll be outside if you need anything, then. I can’t wander too far, or I’ll really get in trouble.” Gunner flashed a lopsided grin.
Gemma nodded, still unable to smile, as Gunner left, and the room fell quiet again.
Gemma reached for her comm, but her fingers hesitated. She’d told Christian that she would let him know what happened with the door, but her heart already hurt just thinking about how much his would ache when he learned how fast things were accelerating.
Still, she’d said she would call. He’d be more worried if she didn’t.
She tapped her comm. “Call Christian Holm.”
The signal beeped once, twice. When he answered on the third beep, Gemma heard the ruffling of sheets. She groaned. Of course she’d forgotten about his grave shift schedule.
“Hey.” Christian’s voice sounded alert despite being awakened. “You okay?”
Gemma exhaled a breath. “Yeah, I just promised I’d call.” Her voice caught.
“That’s not what I asked,” he said gently.
Her eyes flicked to the far corner of the lab, as if she could hide the truth. But lying to him wasn’t an option. He’d only ever been honest with her.
“It responded to me—the door.” She swallowed. “I commanded it to open, and it did. Before I passed out.”
Christian swore under his breath. “Are you hurt?”
“No, just overloaded, I think. Doctor Manae ran scans. The Revarian DNA—” She faltered, swallowing deeply to keep the emotion out of her voice. “It’s accelerating. She said it’s overtaken my human DNA.”
Silence.
Her pulse thrashed in her ears. What was going through his mind? Was he regretting saying he’d stay by her side no matter what?
The room blurred behind unshed tears.
His voice dipped, rough and tender. “I wish I was there to hold you, kiss you, tuck those rebellious strands of hair behind your ear . . . Stars, I miss you.”
“Me too,” she whispered, her voice cracking.
A short pause.
“Does it feel different?” he asked. “In your body, I mean.”
Gemma glanced down at her hands. “I guess. It’s like there’s something under my skin, like . . . I don’t know. Pressure, maybe? Not enough to hurt, but I can feel it. Like it wants me to keep using my powers.”
“Don’t push it, okay? Let them run tests, do the science. But don’t let them treat you like an experiment.”
A pause.
Her throat tightened. “I’m scared.”
“I know. But you’re not alone in this. We’ll figure it out. One step at a time.”
She wiped a traitorous tear off her cheek.
“If you want, I can distract you.” The tone in Christian’s voice had turned mischievous.
She snorted. Of course, his mind would go there. He would say and do anything to put a smile on her face.
“I’m sitting on a bed in a lab,” she replied. “Not exactly private.”
“So, call me again later when you’re in your shelter, and I’ll tell you all the things I’d do to you if you were in this bed right now.”
A deep longing grew between her legs. It had been way too long since she’d felt him tug on her hair, trail his mouth down her neck . . .
Okay, yes. That kind of distraction was exactly what she needed.
“Okay, I’ll call you later then,” Gemma answered, her pulse already racing.
Christian chuckled. “Sounds good. I look forward to it. Love you.”
“Love you more.”
“Not possible.”