He rubbed his hand over his face. “I’ve been reading through the Infinityglass research, the part you told me to focus on. I talked to Liam, too. This isn’t a sit-down conversation.”
I disagreed. Michael was pacing, and it made my stomach threaten an out-of-body experience. I sat.
“If you follow it to its logical conclusion, transmutation is about cell regeneration. Regeneration, making things new. Renewal. Fixing what’s broken.”
“I understand the definition. Hallie does, too.”
Being a smart-ass wasn’t in my wheelhouse, so Michael let the comment go. “Regeneration, especially if it happens that fast, could heal the continuum.”
“What are you saying?” I asked.
“I believe Hallie could heal the continuum.”
“You think she has enough power to do that?” I heard the strain in my own voice, felt the kick in my gut.
“If the rips continue to possess her and she continues to fight them, she’ll eventually burn out.” He shoved his hands in his back pockets. “The Skroll info proves the Infinityglass was never meant to bear a load like this. Healing individual rips could’ve been manageable, possibly her purpose. Crowds of them, no. Entire rip worlds, no.”
His words echoed in my head.
“I agree with your theory. They possess her because they want to live through her,” he continued. “But they want more than that. They want her to fix them.”
I stared at him as things from the Skroll shuffled into place. Information I hadn’t understood in the context of an object. “The amount of regenerated cells she produces could heal the rifts in the continuum.”
“Only if she’s inside it.” Michael’s eyes clouded with concern. “The rips are multiplying; their worlds are taking over. Time is ripping apart around us, Dune, and Hallie might be the only one who can repair it.”
She could repair it.
But could she survive it?
Chapter 21
Hallie
“I am super awkward at social situations in general, and there’s some major stuff going down, so I’m not going to hold to any sort of societal standard, and I’m just going to pretend like we’ve known each other long enough to say what’s on our mind, and I hope that’s okay.” Emerson blurted all of this out in the ten seconds after the door shut behind her.
“You are intense.” Maybe she was overcompensating for height, like Napoleon and his complex.
“I am.”
“And you aren’t apologizing for it. I really, really admire that.” My phone buzzed an alert. I was supposed to have called Dad, but got distracted by Dune. “Crap.”
“Everything okay?” Emerson asked, and then she covered her mouth with one hand. “I mean, obviously, everything isn’t okay. I was referring to the ‘crap.’ That you said. When you said, ‘crap.’ ”
I laughed, deep and long, and realized I hadn’t in a while. “I’m kind of wondering where you’ve been all my life.”
“Um, committed. At least for part of it.” Emerson frowned. “That sounds scary, out of context.”
This girl was so authentic she probably had a trademark stamped on her ass.
“So explain it. And do you mind if I stretch? I get antsy after the possessions.” Talk about things that sounded scary out of context.
“Go for it.” She sat down on the edge of my bed, and I sat down on the floor and started with my hamstrings. I moved through two sets of stretches, but she wasn’t talking.
“I can stretch and listen at the same time.” I rested my forehead on my knees.
“Right. It’s just, wow. You are really … bendy.”
“That’s what three dance classes a week will do for you. Usually, anyway. It’s been a busy week.” I shot her a look and felt very gratified when she laughed. “On with the story.”
“My parents died in an accident. To keep it short, I’ve existed in two time lines. One involves me being burned horribly in over forty percent of my body. Skin grafts to my back. Medications. Pain. Debilitating depression to the point of institutionalization.” She cleared her throat. “And then there’s the time line where Jack Landers screwed with my life.”
“I thought Jack took memories and then ran around trying to find out how to be all-powerful by using them against people.”
I stretched my neck to the right and then to the left.
“He might sound small-time, but he’s not. Jack’s time line saved me from the accident, but it was so he could use me. For his nefarious purposes.” Forced humor distorted her voice. “Nothing like owing your life to a madman.”