"So it's okay to kill anyone who gets in the way of the rebellion?" Michael demanded, clenching his fists.

"Yes!" Trevor shouted.

"No!" Michael shouted back.

The shards fragmented and fell to the floor in a shower of powdery dust. Michael and Trevor locked eyes for a long moment. Then, without warning, Trevor disappeared.

I have to get out of here, Michael thought, his body practically shaking from all the effort and emotion he'd expended. The table slid away from the door at Michael's thought command.

"Wait. What am I doing?" he said. He concentrated a moment, and the shimmering, iridescent walls of his dream orb appeared. He stepped through and woke up.

The sheet under Michael's back was moist with sweat. This was not a problem because Michael had no intention of going back to sleep anytime soon. He glanced at the clock on the bedside table and found that it was three-thirty in the morning. He'd gotten most of his two hours of sleep.

Michael stood up and pulled on his jeans and a T-shirt. He hesitated a moment, then slid on his shoes, too. It seemed like a good time for one of his late night visits to Maria's room. She never minded him waking her up, and somehow he always ended up feeling a little better after spending time with her. Even if she drove him crazy with too many questions.

He headed out of the bedroom down the hall, glancing at Adam as he passed. Michael paused. Adam had probably gotten most of the sleep he needed, too, and he was always up for hanging out. Maybe he should just stay here and chill out. Teaching Adam some more about life in the real world would definitely take his mind off things. For a little while, anyway.

But the more he thought about it, Michael realized it wasn't Maria or Adam he wanted to be with right now. He needed to see Max. Things had gotten bad between them, and it was time for that to end.

"He's my real brother, anyway," Michael muttered. "Enough is enough."

Max rubbed his rubber Koosh ball up and down the side of his face. A cluster of the beings in the consciousness never seemed to tire of the sensation, and through them Max shared the deliciousness of the rubber strands bushing against his skin. Their pleasure was almost as intense for Max as anything he'd ever experienced on his own.

Reluctantly he dove away from the Koosh-loving beings and pushed himself deeper into the ocean of auras that made up the consciousness. He focused on an image of Ray Iburg and shot it out into the billions of entities. There was a faint ripple of response, not from Ray himself, but from beings who knew of Ray.

Max caught a current and surfed into another section of the consciousness. He wanted to call Ray from a different spot. Ray was the only adult survivor of the crash-at least the only one who wasn't evil incarnate. He'd taught Max so much before he'd died. If Max could just talk to him-or exchange images and emotions the way the beings in the consciousness did-maybe Ray would have some clue what he should be doing. Because everything in Max's life was falling apart, and there was no one Max could talk to about it. He was the only one on Earth who was connected to the consciousness, and he needed advice from the only other being who had been connected while living on Earth.

Plus he wouldn't mind one of Ray's Elvis impersonations. Something to make Max laugh would be nice. I could always go back to the Koosh crowd, he thought. But it was too easy to lose time in a cluster of auras like that one, too easy to get seduced by the pleasure of physical sensation, amplified as it was by the beings.

Max focused on an image of Ray in his spangled Elvis jumpsuit and sent it out. This time there wasn't even a flicker of recognition, although he caught some amusement and a little fear.

Another current swept past him. Max allowed himself to be drawn along with it and was sucked into a massive aggregation of ice-cold auras. These beings are terrified, he realized. Terrified that DuPris has two of the Stones. Terrified of… of dying.

Max tried to throw out a question, but the cold had seeped too deeply into him. He'd been frozen to the point that he was incapable of throwing the necessary images to find out why the beings feared they were close to death.

Above him he felt a current passing. He tried to propel himself up to meet it. But the numbing coldness made it impossible.

"Max," a voice cried, so far away, Max couldn't make out who was speaking. "Max!" It came louder, and this time Max realized it was Michael calling to him.

The sound of Michael's voice jolted him free of the icy block of auras, and Max found himself speeding along in the current. He had started to break the connection to the consciousness-well, turn down the volume, at least-when a group of beings demanded to know about the odor Max was smelling.

Max concentrated, then sent back the answer-lemon-scented furniture polish. Then they asked him what a lemon was. Max focused on imagining a lemon tree with as much detail as he could.

"Max!" he heard Michael call, soft as a whisper.

Be there in one second, he thought. He threw out the image of the tree to the beings and was instantly bombarded with more questions. He began focusing on the image of a lemon being squeezed.

Somewhere in the back of his mind Max knew Michael had called to him. But he was so focused on the questions before him, he could barely conjure up a picture of Michael for himself. It went from fuzzy to foggy to shapeless, then disappeared entirely.

Isabel was sure she could find herself another cleaning project somewhere in the house, but she felt tired. Totally exhausted, actually.

She told herself it was just because she and the others had run around like crazy trying to find Maria's brother. And it wasn't as if they'd been sitting around on their butts before that. They'd been spending every second trying to get Alex back home.

So she really did have more than enough reason to feel wiped out. And the extreme physical sensations-they could have just been caused by stress. She had as much reason to feel stressed as she did to feel tired. More, even.

Isabel ignored the part of her brain that was screaming about the akino. She sat down at her desk and flipped on her computer, needing some distraction. When the main screen came up, she clicked on the little icon to bring up her list of favorite places. She didn't feel like shopping. And she'd checked out the Chickclick sites a couple of days ago. Finally her eyes fell on Lucinda Baker's web page. Perfect. Isabel clicked it and waited for it to load.

"I wonder if there's a way that my power could boost the modem speed," she mumbled, impatient to start reading. She tapped her finger against the screen until the photo of Lucinda's face came clear. She clicked on Lucinda's puckered lips, then tapped the screen again until the list of guys' names appeared.

Who had Lucinda been kissing lately? Her eyes were caught by a name that had been highlighted in red-Alex Manes. Lucinda just asked us to say hi for her this afternoon, Isabel thought. She can't have already-

Isabel clicked on Alex's name, tapping the screen with all ten nails. As soon as the first sentences came up, she eagerly began to read.

"Okay, I admit I haven't tried Alexander the Great yet! But don't worry, I will. I hate to admit it, but Stacey Scheinin got to him first. She and Alex had quite the little two-person party by the mall drinking fountain. You all know the one I mean. I got Stacey to give up a few details. Not that it was hard. Stacey and I aren't exactly compadres, but we all know the girl likes to brag. Anyway, Stacey gave Alex the full four tongues. 'He knows what to do, and he does it well,' says Stacey. 'Plus he's adorable.' Is it just me, or has Alex gotten a whole lot yummier since he was dumped by La Isabel?"