bruises remain healed from his previous transformation, but he has a new set of injuries from the fall. Bumps and scrapes, nothing he isn’t used to. Lying flat on his back, his eyes flutter and he cranes his neck, trying to piece together the events that took place just seconds ago, but now feel like fragments of a distant memory.
Equally battered, Dia comes to Cole’s side, offering a hand to help him back to his feet. Her dark hair is wind-blown, and a streak of dried blood and lipstick are smeared across her face. Her bottom lip is split and her jawbone is starting to show the beginnings of an angry purple bruise.
Taking her hand for support, Donovan regains his footing. “Where the hell are we?”
“The top of my building.”
Cole glances in every direction, each side offering a panoramic view of Manhattan’s glittering skyline. They were definitely on a roof top, but he wasn’t sure how they’d arrived there. “So how did we get…wait, did I pass out? Am I drunk?” He massages his temples in small circles. Memories of his dream (if that’s what it was – he’s still not so sure) float through his mind like a swirling haze. “Did we have sex? When we were back at Platinum did you slip a roofie in my drink?”
“Yes,” Dia replies in a dry monotone. “I found you so unbelievably attractive that I drugged you, abducted you, and then took advantage of you while you were unconscious…right here on the rooftop terrace of my condo.”
Cole stares back at Dia for a moment, not sure how to respond.
She rolls her eyes. “Don’t worry, ma’am. Your delicate sensibilities haven’t been compromised.”
Cole takes a step but his legs turn to rubber. He stumbles, and Dia lunges to grab his arm.
“Whoa, take it easy there, cowboy.” She pats him on the back. “If you’ve never been through a gateway it can be pretty disorienting. Most people throw up the first time through. Some even hallucinate.”
After regaining his bearings, Cole runs his hand along the back of his arm where the large coiling snake tattoo had been, marveling at his unblemished skin. “So wait, how did we get here? And where did that big tat go?”
Dia’s eyes widen. “Wow, that really was the first time you’ve ever triggered, wasn’t it? You’ve never manifested before. And the Collectors really didn’t have you marked as a target?”
Cole squints his eyes hard, and bends at the waist, cradling his forehead with both palms. His skull feels like it’s been torn open with a rusted hacksaw. With some assistance from Dia, he makes his way to a lounge chair and starts piecing together the puzzling events of the last few minutes. “Okay, just for the sake of argument, let’s pretend I was knocked unconscious twice in the same night, and now I’ve just teleported across the city through a wormhole or something.”
“A rift,” Dia corrects him.
“All right, a rift that you tore open after cutting your wrist…right before asking me to beat the crap out of you. Can you please just slow down and start from the beginning? What the hell just happened back there?”
Dia pulls a chair across from him, the metal feet scraping across the marble times. “Okay, getting punched by Heinreich caused you to trigger: the rush of adrenaline – or anger, or whatever it was – started a biochemical event that altered your physical properties. It’s called ‘manifesting’. Whatever you have buried in your subconscious comes rushing to the surface, and it results in an actual, physical change.”
Cole glanced down at his arm once again, bringing his fingertips to his narrow bicep. “So why did I look different?”
“You mean the jacked arms and the tats? It’s all part of the manifestation process – it’s like your self-projected image. It’s what your ego wants you to look like, or on some level how you see your ideal self. Usually the differences are kind of subtle, though. I’ve never seen anyone triple in size.”
He
Equally battered, Dia comes to Cole’s side, offering a hand to help him back to his feet. Her dark hair is wind-blown, and a streak of dried blood and lipstick are smeared across her face. Her bottom lip is split and her jawbone is starting to show the beginnings of an angry purple bruise.
Taking her hand for support, Donovan regains his footing. “Where the hell are we?”
“The top of my building.”
Cole glances in every direction, each side offering a panoramic view of Manhattan’s glittering skyline. They were definitely on a roof top, but he wasn’t sure how they’d arrived there. “So how did we get…wait, did I pass out? Am I drunk?” He massages his temples in small circles. Memories of his dream (if that’s what it was – he’s still not so sure) float through his mind like a swirling haze. “Did we have sex? When we were back at Platinum did you slip a roofie in my drink?”
“Yes,” Dia replies in a dry monotone. “I found you so unbelievably attractive that I drugged you, abducted you, and then took advantage of you while you were unconscious…right here on the rooftop terrace of my condo.”
Cole stares back at Dia for a moment, not sure how to respond.
She rolls her eyes. “Don’t worry, ma’am. Your delicate sensibilities haven’t been compromised.”
Cole takes a step but his legs turn to rubber. He stumbles, and Dia lunges to grab his arm.
“Whoa, take it easy there, cowboy.” She pats him on the back. “If you’ve never been through a gateway it can be pretty disorienting. Most people throw up the first time through. Some even hallucinate.”
After regaining his bearings, Cole runs his hand along the back of his arm where the large coiling snake tattoo had been, marveling at his unblemished skin. “So wait, how did we get here? And where did that big tat go?”
Dia’s eyes widen. “Wow, that really was the first time you’ve ever triggered, wasn’t it? You’ve never manifested before. And the Collectors really didn’t have you marked as a target?”
Cole squints his eyes hard, and bends at the waist, cradling his forehead with both palms. His skull feels like it’s been torn open with a rusted hacksaw. With some assistance from Dia, he makes his way to a lounge chair and starts piecing together the puzzling events of the last few minutes. “Okay, just for the sake of argument, let’s pretend I was knocked unconscious twice in the same night, and now I’ve just teleported across the city through a wormhole or something.”
“A rift,” Dia corrects him.
“All right, a rift that you tore open after cutting your wrist…right before asking me to beat the crap out of you. Can you please just slow down and start from the beginning? What the hell just happened back there?”
Dia pulls a chair across from him, the metal feet scraping across the marble times. “Okay, getting punched by Heinreich caused you to trigger: the rush of adrenaline – or anger, or whatever it was – started a biochemical event that altered your physical properties. It’s called ‘manifesting’. Whatever you have buried in your subconscious comes rushing to the surface, and it results in an actual, physical change.”
Cole glanced down at his arm once again, bringing his fingertips to his narrow bicep. “So why did I look different?”
“You mean the jacked arms and the tats? It’s all part of the manifestation process – it’s like your self-projected image. It’s what your ego wants you to look like, or on some level how you see your ideal self. Usually the differences are kind of subtle, though. I’ve never seen anyone triple in size.”
He
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