The Rebel

"Usually I'd agree with you," Alex told him. "But not this time. All our lives could be at stake. That's why I asked Max to check Trevor out."

Michael felt like punching something. Something he could whale on until his hands were bruised and bloody, until he was so exhausted that's all he could think about.

"I can't believe you're saying this," he burst out. "You're talking about my brother."

"I realize he's your brother, but we don't really know anything about him," Max answered.

"Right, we don't know anything about him at all," Maria jumped in. "Good or bad."

But Michael noticed that she had backed up half a step away from Trevor, and he saw that threads of sickly yellow had begun twining through her aura. She was scared.

"What possible reason would Trevor have for trying to kill you?" Isabel asked Alex.

Isabel's question hadn't sounded challenging. It hadn't sounded like she was defending Trevor, either. It was more like she was staying neutral until she had all the facts.

Which was the same as siding against Michael's brother. The same as siding against Michael. Was Michael the only one who knew that there was no way his brother could be some kind of potential murderer? This was total insanity.

Michael positioned himself at Trevor's side, wanting him to know that at least Michael was with him however this thing shook down. He wished he had some clue what Trevor was thinking, but his brother still had that blank look on his face, and he hadn't said a word.

"Show them," Alex told Max.

Max reached into his pocket and pulled out a stone that was filled with a pulsing blue-green light. The glow distorted the planes of his face, making him look like a stranger to Michael.

"A Stone?" Isabel breathed.

"What does that thing prove?" Michael demanded.

Alex ignored him and nailed Trevor with a hard look. "You're not going to try to pretend you don't know what that is, are you?"

"Of course I know what it is. I doubt you could find anyone on my planet who doesn't," Trevor answered, his voice flat. "It's one of the Stones of Midnight." He stretched his hand toward it, then caught himself and jammed his fingers into his pocket instead.

"It's power, pure power," Isabel said. "I can see someone killing for that." Her tone was still neutral, as if she were talking about the weather or something.

Michael felt like shaking her.

"I can tell you for sure that someone was searching my room last night," Alex jumped in again. "I didn't see their face. But they teleported out, so that kind of narrows things down." He turned to Michael. "I mean, that does narrow things down, right?"

It's like he was begging Michael to understand that… that this wasn't personal or something. Michael looked away. He didn't know what he'd end up doing if he didn't. That I'm-sorry-but-I've-got-to-do-this expression on Alex's face was about to make Michael go ballistic.

"Max, I think we need to hear what the consciousness told you," Maria said. She shot an apologetic glance at Michael.

Oh, so she was sorry, too. Well, that made this witch-hunt just fine, didn't it? As long as everybody felt bad, it didn't matter that they were accusing Michael's brother of something heinous.

"Just as, you know, a precaution," Maria added. She bent down and picked up a soda can off the floor, then stared at it as if she'd never seen one before.

"I think you'd all be more comfortable discussing me if I wasn't here," Trevor said suddenly. Then he turned on his heel and strode toward the door.

"I'm coming with you," Michael called after him. But Max grabbed his arm before he could move.

Michael jerked his arm away. He stumbled backward, ramming into one of the glass display cases.

"I can't believe that you just did that. I can't believe that you all-" He stopped. There were no words that could explain how he felt right now. They'd all betrayed him, and they didn't even know it.

"We didn't say that Trevor had done anything wrong. We just need to talk it through," Maria said softly, talking to Michael as if he were some kind of wild animal that needed to be coaxed back into its cage.

"No!" Michael shouted. "No!" He slammed his fist down onto the case, and the top shattered. Shards of glass speared into his skin. Michael squeezed his fingers even tighter against his palm, forcing the glass in deeper, welcoming the pain.

"Let me heal that for you," Max said, in the same soft voice Maria had been using.

"I don't need anything from you," Michael shot back. He'd never thought he'd say those words to Max, Max, who'd always been there for him. But Michael meant the words, every one of them.

There was a choice to be made here, and he was making it. He turned on his heel and started toward the door.

"Don't," Max ordered. "The consciousness said Trevor was dangerous. He could turn on you the second you're alone."

Michael shot a glance at Max over his shoulder. "You don't get it, do you?" he asked. "He's my brother."

He sprinted out the door into the dark night. Trevor was already more than a block away. Without hesitation Michael took off after him.

Adam swept the floor of the empty museum. He wasn't sure what he was going to do when he was finished.

Should he go look for Michael? He'd been gone for more than three hours. Adam grabbed the dustpan out of the waistband of his jeans, then pushed the pile of dirt into the pan.

I haven't felt any pain or fear or anything from Michael. Or from Trevor, Adam thought. He emptied the dustpan into the garbage can behind the information counter. So they're probably okay.

He did a scan of the museum, hoping there was some other party cleanup task to keep him busy. When his eyes passed over the big front window, he felt an itchy sensation go from the top of his neck all the way to the base of his spine. Windows still sort of gave him the creeps sometimes. Gave him that feeling of huge amounts of space out there, waiting to bear down on him.

Adam touched the sunglasses in his pocket but didn't put them on. They'd been a present from Liz when he first got out of the compound. She'd thought they'd help cut down on the bewildering and dazzling stimuli that was part of everyday life aboveground. And they'd worked. But Adam liked the dazzle, even when it made him feel a little nuts.

He put the broom and the dustpan in the little closet behind the counter, then hesitated. He couldn't shake the feeling that he should be doing something-like maybe going to talk to Max and Isabel and see if the three of them could figure out some course of action to deal with the Trevor situation. Adam figured it was better than going upstairs and sitting on his butt, just hoping everything was okay with Michael.

He hurried to the front door and realized there was someone standing on the other side. Liz.

Adam's fingers shook as he fumbled with the lock and opened the door for her. His heart contracted as he saw that her eyes were red from crying and that her aura had crimson splotches of anger almost completely obscured by a thick webbing of the dark purple that signified deep grief.

"I guess you heard about Michael and Trevor," he began.

Liz dropped a gym bag on the floor. "Do you think I could stay here with you guys for a while? I'd go to Maria's, but I'm sure my father would find me and drag me home."

Obviously this wasn't about Michael and Trevor. "Of course you can stay," Adam told her. "Stay as long as you want. But Liz, what's wrong?"

"I had a fight with my papa," she answered, twisting her long dark hair into a knot on top of her head. "A fight. That sounds so minor." Her voice broke, and Adam saw fresh tears begin to fall down her cheeks. "I don't know if he'll ever talk to me again. I don't know if I'm ever going to be able to go home."