Operating System (The System Series Book 3) Read online

  “I think she only likes me because she cannot read me. She cannot tell whether or not I have a soul, so she cannot discern the moment of my death, and this is a comfort to her.”

  “Do you blame her?” I ask. “Her abilities weigh on her.”

  “They would be a comfort to me,” he says. “Knowing the day I will die, the day my friends will die, would make everything clear. Every day would have more meaning.”

  I sigh. “I think the fact that you haven’t experienced love makes this hard for you to understand. Jack’s friends and family aren’t just window-dressing to her—they are her life. She knows when each of them will leave her, and how it will happen, and let me tell you, Tyrion, most people don’t just go to bed and fail to wake. Death can be awful and painful. She lives her life like each day is one more tick of the time bomb. Ignorance can be bliss.”

  Tyrion kicks a frustrated toe into the asphalt. “I have not experienced romantic love, this is true, but I love! Dacey and you and your father and Tessa and…I wish no harm to any of you! Losing you would devastate me! I get it!”

  I put a hand on his arm. “I know you love your friends, and I hope you can come around to see Jack’s point of view, but maybe I’ve misstated it. She’s lived with this ability for her entire life, and she’s managed to have close relationships in spite of it. Give her a little credit. She sees what an amazing person you are. She’d want to get to know you even if she could see your soul.”

  Tyrion scrubs a hand across his face. “Perhaps the issue is mine, then. I have managed to love those around me even without a soul, but I have other concerns. No one knows in what ways I might be limited, as a human being, I mean.”

  “Tyrion,” I say, “you are a good man. A man. A good human being. Having a soul does not guarantee goodness, God knows. And there’s not one shred of evidence that your capacities in any area are limited. Look at what you’ve accomplished in just six months of being separated from Dacey. You’ve impressed a girl enough to have a crush on you. Most men wait years for that.”

  The corner of his mouth quirks up. “I have always been a quick learner.”

  I laugh. “Look, I’m not going to talk you into anything. You have to be ready to at least be open to commitment if you start seeing Jack, ‘cause I don’t want her to be used. But you’ve been honest, and Jack’s an adult and can make her own decisions. Take some time to think about it. You guys don’t have to go from this date to the altar.”

  Tyrion sighs. “I just do not know how to separate out what I am feeling. My sexual urges are foremost, and I can think of little else. Dacey says all men feel the same. So how do they control themselves?”

  “Some don’t,” I say, shrugging. “But we’re not animals. We don’t have to do something just because we want to. You have to look at the bigger picture. What do you ultimately want to achieve? What are your life goals?”

  “Right now? To relieve my sexual frustration. Tomorrow? I predict the same. Maybe I should just go out with Dacey and his female companions, as he has suggested.”

  I inwardly cringe. “Sexual gratification is short-term, my man,” I say. “You sleep with someone tonight, and I guarantee you’ll still wake up with a hard-on. That’s every male’s lot in life. So you can have one casual encounter after the other, without any meaning whatsoever, or you can find that perfect partner who will satisfy every craving you have forever. I’m no expert, but the choice seems pretty clear to me. Think on it.”

  Tyrion blinks at me. “Dacey has never put it that way before.”

  “Dacey is screwed up right now, you know that, right? We all love him, and we’re trying to help him, but Dacey lost his perfect partner, Tyrion. He’s in a really bad place. You shouldn’t consider all his advice to be gospel. At least not while he’s still hurting.”

  Tyrion nods once and holds out his hand. I shake it. “Thank you, Thomas. I will think on what you have said. And tell Jack…tell Jack…I truly did have a magical evening.”

  Chapter Three

  “Tyrion said to tell you that he truly had a magical evening,” I say as we pull out of the parking lot.

  Jack sighs. “Not magical enough, apparently.”

  I frown at her in the rearview mirror. “He’s only been an individual for six months, and he’s only just started feeling like a man. Maybe you need to be patient with him.”

  “He thinks I only want to be with him because I can’t see his death,” Jack says. “Am I right?”

  “He mentioned it,” I say, “but I really think he just needs time. He’s not ready to jump into a relationship, and I can’t blame him. And the fact that he doesn’t have a soul…it weighs on him.”

  “It bothers him?” Tessa asks.

  “Of course,” I say. “Wouldn’t it bother you?”

  Tessa shrugs. “I guess it depends on what having a soul means. Does it mean I don’t go to Heaven? Does it mean I can’t be a good person? Those things would bother me, but we don’t really know the soul’s purpose or where it comes from.” She turns in her seat to look at Jack. “Do we?”

  “I’ve never seen a living person without a soul, so I always assumed it was our life force,” Jack says. “Tyrion’s existence definitely changes things for me.”

  “Like what?” Tessa asks.

  “Like how I view God,” Jack says. “How I view the afterlife. I don’t have any answers, but my assumptions have taken a beating. Tyrion is so…he’s just different. Funny, understanding, caring…how can he not have a soul? And if he doesn’t, maybe the soul isn’t that important. Maybe God’s not involved. Maybe the soul does mean something else.”

  “Maybe he has a soul and you just can’t see it,” I suggest.

  Jack cocks her head. “How would that be possible?”

  “I think it’s more possible than a body walking around and breathing and feeling without a soul.”

  Jack falls silent.

  “What does the soul look like, Jack?” Tessa asks. “Is it beautiful?”

  Jack leans her head back and closes her eyes. “Some are beautiful, some are eerie, some attract and some repel. Each is completely unique.”

  Tessa glances at me, then looks back at Jack. “I know you don’t like to talk about it, but you can see our souls, Thomas’s and mine, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you know when we’re going to die.”

  “Yes.” She says it matter-of-factly, so matter-of-factly that a chill races up my spine. “I made a vow when I was twenty-three that I wouldn’t share that information until two weeks beforehand, and then only with people who already know about my ability. I lost friends, people called me crazy…please don’t ask me about your future, Tessa.”

  Tessa frowns. “I would never put you in that position, Jack. Thomas told me that at the Attic you learned how to control the ability to read death, and I just wondered if you learned it before or after meeting us.”

  “Tessa,” I warn her.

  “It’s okay, Thomas,” Jack says.

  “I’m not looking for the actual information, Jack,” Tessa says. “I’m trying to understand you. I’d take some of the burden from you, if I could.”

  Jack smiles at her, just a bit. “My brother is a lucky guy, you know that?” Tessa ducks her head. “You want to know what the soul looks like? It gives off an aura, which has color to some degree. Our dad is gold, a brilliant gold, with ribbons of deep purple and a band of pink. Thomas is a different shade of gold, edged in purple. Tessa, you’re bright yellow with pink streaks. I think yellow and gold indicate goodness, or righteousness. ”

  Tessa laughs. “Which aren’t exactly the same thing.”

  Jack grins. “Nope.”

  “What’s the purple mean?”

  “Practical. So Dad’s goodness is deeply intertwined with his practicality. Thomas’s goodness is tempered by that practicality. You, my dear, are just good.”

  Tessa laughs. “What about the pink?”

  “Romantic.”


  I think about that. Dad is good (though I think righteous fits better), but only to the extent it’s practical…all tempered by a romantic streak. I inwardly giggle. I wonder if Jack has ever shared this information with Dad.

  “What about you?” Tessa asks. “Can you see your own soul? Like, if you look in a mirror?”

  “Yes,” is all Jack says.

  ***

  I wonder about how my sister was brought up, and how this affects the person she is today. We grew up separately—my dad’s first girlfriend Vivian had her when they were only twenty years old. Dad and Viv were in the military, a part of the secret medical research facility called the Attic, and they were ordered to have a child. Dad didn’t even know Vivian was pregnant and in a coma when they took her away, refused to tell Dad her whereabouts, and then adopted Jack out to a military family in Virginia.

  All four of us have—Vivian had, I guess, since she passed away six months ago—the ability to control our autonomic nervous systems. We can move fat cells around, heal wounds, change our heart rates, induce our immune systems to fight viruses directly—the whole shebang. Jack and I have extra abilities beyond those of typical Attic Dwellers. I can grow nerves and cells in the central nervous system, and Jack can read souls and know when a person is going to die. Unique abilities, yes, and ones difficult to live with at times.

  Dad and Vivian found out about Jack’s existence ten years ago, when Dad finally located Vivian in a hospital in Wichita and I brought her out of her coma. Vivian met Jack as soon as she was able, but Dad and I only met her six months ago. Jack read Vivian’s soul when they met, and she found that Vivian’s death would give another life and that she would die the day after Jack met her real dad.

  Of course, Dad refused to meet Jack after hearing that—he didn’t want Vivian to die.

  Fast forward to six months ago, and Vivian felt her death would save Dacey, the man she loved and the man who literally grew Tyrion out of his own body. Vivian insisted that Dad finally meet Jack so that her destiny could be fulfilled.

  It happened just the way Jack said it would: Vivian died the next day, and her heart was transplanted into Dacey to save his life.

  I love my sister, and I think I understand her better than she gives me credit for. We’ve only known each other for six months, after all, and there’s still a lot of her life that she hasn’t shared with me. I suspect she doesn’t share much with anyone.

  I’d like to change that. Dwellers don’t usually live much longer than fifty years, and our dad will be forty-seven next month. Jack and I will soon be each other’s only family. That connection is important to me.

  I hope it’s important to her, too.

  Chapter Four

  Tessa pounces on me when I come home from work. “Guess what?”

  “What?”

  “Sam’s in labor!”

  I laugh and kiss her cheek. “I seriously doubt that your brother has gone into labor.”

  Tessa swats my arm. “You know what I mean! Her, his, that girl…fine. What’s-her-name’s in labor.”

  “Her name’s Julie.”

  “Julie! Fine, Julie the bitch, the runaway mom. Her.”

  I smile. None of us has much respect for the girl Sam knocked up. She’s giving Sam full custody of the baby and signing all her parental rights away. And she’s been urging Sam to just give the baby up for adoption so they can both move on with their lives. Thank God Sam’s a better man than she and insists on raising his child.

  “Isn’t it a little early?” I ask.

  “Yeah, her due date is a few weeks away, and this is totally screwing up Sam’s school schedule. He has finals in two weeks.”

  “What’s the plan?”

  Tessa flops in a chair at the kitchen table while I make myself a sandwich. “Mom already left to drive up to Santa Cruz. She doesn’t want Sam to ruin an entire semester of school, so I think she’s going to bring the baby back here. When’s Sam’s done with school, he’ll move in with us.”

  “Full house,” I mumble. “Have Dad and Erica decided if they’re giving up their office?”

  “Nope. I mean yes, they’ve decided not to. Guess I’ll just have to move in with you,” Tessa says, grinning.

  I grin back.

  Of course, this is an odd situation. My mom’s dead, and my dad ended up falling in love with Tessa’s mom, Erica. Tessa’s dad ran off with all their money, and Erica was forced to sell their house. They moved in with us.

  Tessa and I have separate bedrooms, and we keep things pretty platonic, mostly, but our house only has four bedrooms, one of which is the sacred office. If Sam and his new baby move in, then, yeah. Tessa and I are going to have to share. Permanently.

  “Maybe it’s time I got my own place,” I say, and Tessa squeals, jumps up, and hugs me.

  “Really? We can get our own place?”

  Tessa and I are only seventeen. She still has a year of high school left. I’m just lucky I was able to get my GED early and have a well-paying job in a lab.

  I untangle from her and step back. “I don’t know, Tessa.”

  Her body wilts. “You don’t want to live together?”

  We’ve had these discussions before. Not about moving out, but about sex. Tessa’s all for it, but I want to wait until we’re married, and until she’s at least graduated.

  “Of course I do. You know that’s not the issue. I just think we’re a bit young, that’s all.”

  Tessa glares at me. “You’re infuriating!” And she stomps out of the room.

  Chapter Five

  I bolt upright and scrub a hand across my face. The baby is screaming at the top of her little eight-day-old lungs.

  I look down at Tessa, who’s snoring indelicately beside me. Poor thing has a cold and took NyQuil to knock herself out. Evidently, the stuff works.

  I throw on my robe and knot the belt. As I step into the hallway, I see Dad disappear into the baby’s room. I hear the squeak of the crib mattress as he picks her up. I hear him pat her back and whisper sleep-inducing coos. I pad down the hall and enter the nursery on tiptoes.

  “I’ll take her,” I whisper.

  Dad’s teeth gleam in the dim light. “I got her.”

  “You have to work tomorrow,” I say. “I’m off. Get some rest.”

  Dad lowers himself into the rocking chair carefully, rubbing slow circles on Emmaleth’s back. She’s stopped crying, but her chest hitches with hiccoughs, and she’s trying to stuff her whole fist in her mouth. “I’m good.”

  I lean against the wall. “Looks like she’s hungry. You need to give her a bottle.”

  “I’ll let you make her one,” he says.

  Lucky me.

  I run the tap until warm water comes out and ladle two scoops of formula into a bottle. I shake it vigorously as I return to her room.

  I hold out my arms. “Really, go back to bed. I’m already up.”

  He shakes his head. “Me, too. Besides, this may be my only opportunity.”

  I stiffen. “For what?”

  “Rocking my grandchild. Missed out on this with you, too.”

  I sigh and hand him the bottle, plopping down on the floor beside them as Dad flips Emmaleth into an expert football hold and plugs the bottle in her mouth.

  “So you’re actually enjoying this,” I say.

  “Very much.” He smooths a fingertip across one of her eyebrows. “Hard to believe we start off so small and perfect.”

  The chair creaks on the wood floor as Dad rocks.

  “Do you think Sam will be up to this?” I ask.

  Dad shrugs. “He wanted her when his girlfriend didn’t. He stepped up. I think he’ll rise to the challenge.”

  A muffled “Zrrppp!” punctuates the air, followed by a nosehair-singeing stench.

  Dad chuckles softly. “Diaper time. I think I’m ready for bed.”

  I pop to my feet. “I don’t think so.”

  Dad laughs and heads to the changing table. I linger in the doorway.

/>   “Dad?”

  “Hmm?”

  I swallow. “I’m proud of you.”

  Dad turns around and looks at me. “Thanks.”

  I nod and go back to bed.

  ***

  I have the day off, and Tessa’s in bed coughing and dripping. I decide to hunt for a house.

  I have no real idea of what I’m doing, so I stop at the first real estate office I pass: North Hills Realty.

  “Hello,” I say, extending my hand to the woman at the front desk. “I’d like to buy a house.”

  “Excellent,” she says. We introduce ourselves and she waves me to a chair. “Have you been pre-qualified?”

  “You mean for a loan?” The lady nods. “No, but I’m thinking of paying cash.”

  “Cash,” she says. “Can I ask how old you are, Thomas?”

  “Seventeen, ma’am.”

  “Is…do your parents know you want to buy a house? You can’t enter into a contract unless you’re eighteen.”

  “My father will give consent, or co-sign, or whatever’s needful,” I say. “There’s a trust set up for me. I suppose the house will be held in the trust until I’m eighteen.”

  She nods, not quite sure if she can take me seriously. “So, what price range are you looking at?”

  “Hmm,” I say. “Depends on what I can get for my money.”

  “What are you looking for?”

  I think about the life I have, and the life I want to have. “At least three bedrooms, and three bathrooms would be nice. Enough yard for a dog and a garden. Single story, since my father’s advancing in years and I may have to take care of him. Good schools. I’d like to stay in North Tustin, if possible. How much do you think I need to spend?”

  “North Tustin is quite expensive,” she says. “Now, if you were willing to give up the great schools, for example, or maybe look at condos—”

  “No, I’m not willing to give those things up,” I say.

  She takes a deep breath. “Probably $700,000. Give or take. More give than take.”

  “Great!” I say, relieved. “That’s in my budget.”

  “It is?”